


In the Family (Planning) Way

by Laily



Series: Capsule Collection: Tales of Magic, of Sorrow, Joy and of Love [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Stephen Strange, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Pregnant Loki (Marvel), Protective Stephen Strange, Protective Thor (Marvel), Romance, Self-Harm, Sick Loki (Marvel), Sick Stephen Strange, Strangefrost, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 84,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laily/pseuds/Laily
Summary: Stephen is trying everything he can think of to stop getting Loki pregnant short of abstaining, but as always, Loki has other ideas. And as always, Loki doesn't quite know how to do anything without getting himself killed.





	1. Chapter 1

Loki woke up feeling not quite right.

He listened to the faint sounds of Stephen’s electric shaver and imagined it whirring at more or less the same frequency at which his stomach was churning right now.

When Stephen stepped out of the bathroom all clean-shaven and fragrant, the slicing and dicing in his belly subsided somewhat at the sight of his husband and he smiled.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Loki.” Stephen dropped the obligatory minty kiss on his lips.

When Loki did not rise straight away as he usually would, Stephen teased. “Should have told me you fancied a lie-in. Would have stayed in bed longer and kept you company.”

“Can’t let you be late for your meeting,” Loki murmured.

“Sure you don’t want to come with?”

“Kamar-Taj has lost all appeal to me now that she has passed on,” he said softly.

Stephen decided it was as good a time as any to change the subject. “Any exciting plans for today?”

“I promised to take Stian out riding.” Loki was not quite sure how he was going to manage. Not when he felt like he had swallowed a coffee grinder, the industrial kind too.

Stephen tsk-ed. “How come you always do these fun things without me?”

“Uh, because you’re hopeless on a horse?” Loki pressed a thumb into the dip below his sternum and winced.

“Surely there’s a spell that can make a learned rider out of me?”

“This isn’t The Matrix, Strange. You can’t just download a set of instructions into your brain and instantly know how to fly a helicopter.”

Stephen studied their reflection in the mirror and caught sight of something unpleasant. He surreptitiously watched Loki for a few more seconds. 

Yep. Something was going on.

“You feeling alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You look kinda peaky.”

It was just the thing to say to get Loki up and out of bed.

“I’m perfectly fine, Strange.” He swung his long legs down the side of the bed and sat up slowly. The deep breaths Loki took looked too valiant an effort to muster some sort of courage or energy to face the morning that it brought a frown to Stephen’s face, which naturally Loki saw.

He waved the unnecessary concern away.

“Probably just had too much to drink last night.” Thor had come home from another successful trade negotiation. Loki was not much of a wine drinker but seeing Thor so jubilant, he had decided to partake.

Drunken sex was fun once in a while, so that was an added plus.

Stephen smiled at himself in the mirror.

“What?”

“The second time I’ve seen you this hungover.”

“Yeah?” Loki sauntered over to the dresser in all his glorious nakedness. He wrapped his arms around Stephen’s neck, mussing up the perfectly coiffed hair on purpose. “When was the first?”

“When I first fell in love with you and didn’t know it.”

“You sweet-talker.” Loki nuzzled his nose into the greying hair at Stephen’s temple. Stephen watched transfixed at the sinewy yet graceful outline of Loki’s long neck. “You knew enough to put a baby in me.”

“Loki…”

Loki’s green eyes glinted in mischief as their gaze met. “Five minutes?”

Stephen did not need telling twice.

_____________________________________

 

“You okay?” Stephen watched his husband over the rim of his glass of orange juice. He could be imagining things but if he thought Loki looked a little pale earlier, Loki was looking positively green now.

“What?” Loki looked up from where he was sitting on a high stool at the kitchen island. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just an upset stomach, I think.”

“You don’t get sick.”

“Well, I do now, seems like.” Loki’s hand went back to holding his stomach gingerly, not quite rubbing, not quite clutching. He had thought a quick morning romp would rid him of whatever ill the previous night had brought forth but he was wrong.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“It’s not that bad, Strange.”

“I have learnt by now to never take your ‘not that bad’ at face value.”

Loki glared daggers at him and would have said something equally scathing when a wave of nausea rolled over him and he gagged, a balled-up fist fast pressed to his mouth.

“I didn’t – you’re not…” Stephen slammed his glass down on the counter, sending droplets of juice spattering the pristine granite countertop.

“What?”

“Loki, are you pregnant?” Stephen’s heart began to pound.

“Uh, I think if I were, I’d be doubled up on the floor right now screaming bloody murder in horrific agony.”

Stephen stared at him over the course of the next few heartbeats. “Yeah. Yeah guess you’re right.”

Loki sighed, clearly in misery.

A hand found its way to his forehead. “You feel kinda warm.”

“Must have caught something.”

“I’ll get someone to take care of the kids today.” The hand went away and a quick kiss soon replaced it. “Take it easy today why don’t you.”

“Stian won’t like it.” Loki swallowed and rested his forehead on the counter.

“I’m sure Thor won’t mind going in your stead.”

Loki only nodded and wished whatever bug he seemed to have caught to just run its course as quickly as possible. Aífe was still so small, barely six-months-old. He would not want to pass anything on to her.

Stephen repeated insistently. “Just take it easy.”

____________________________________

“Your Highness?”

Loki looked up from the document he was proofreading. Well. Trying to, more like; he had not advanced beyond the first page since he had dragged himself out of bed and into the living room almost forty minutes ago.

“Are you alright?” Erla asked uncertainly. “You are looking very pale.”

Loki brought his knees higher up his chest, curling into as tight a ball as he could on the couch. “I am fine, Erla. Just a little under the weather.”

“Would you like me to call for a Healer?”

Loki carefully placed the document on the empty seat next to him. He rested his forehead on his knees, and dug his fists into his belly.

“Your Highness?”

Thor had requested for the documents to be proofread by this evening. Loki had held it off for too long, waiting in vain for the pains in his stomach to abate, but they were unrelenting, and only getting worse by the hour.

Loki sighed. He really was ill.

“Yes, Erla. I think I need to see the Healers.”

“Shall I alert the Prince Consort?”

“No, there’s no need to trouble Stephen.” Loki tried to push himself off the couch, but the invisible knife in his stomach twisted upon its axis and sliced the breath out of him. He fell back against the couch with a loud gasp.

“ _Damn_ ,” he cursed aloud. _What is this?_

All it took was one look at his paper-white face and Erla was already out the door. “Please try and hold on, Your Highness. I will get help.”

Loki collapsed onto his back and focused on simply _breathing_ ; the agony clawing in his belly had him seeing stars. “Hurry, Erla.”

____________________________________

 

“Where is Loki?” Stephen emerged from the master bedroom, his final place of search. Upon returning from the Sanctum that evening, he had wanted to seek his husband; he had been so busy he had not been able to call in during the day. Yet Loki was nowhere to be seen.

“Prince Loki is at the infirmary, Highness.” The governess appeared from the children’s nursery. Stephen walked over to give his daughter a kiss on the head.

“Infirmary? Why?” Stephen scanned his eyes through the contents of the refrigerator for something edible and not necessarily fulfilling.

“He became rather unwell in the afternoon and requested to be taken to see the Healers.”

Stephen looked up in alarm.

Aífe’s governess appeared more than a little worried herself as she patted the princess’s back gently to rock her to sleep. “We were to let you know once you’re back from your trip.”

____________________________________

“Did you get yourself checked out?” Stephen found his husband resting in one of the private rooms at the Healing Halls. “What did the Healers say?”

“Nothing serious.” Loki blinked blearily. He had drifted off; the medication was making him quite drowsy. “I just needed something to ease the cramping, that’s all.”

Loki’s pain threshold was well-known to be very high, so having to seek out painkillers was a red flag right up Stephen’s alley.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he groused. He placed a hand on Loki’s knee. “Come on. Straighten your legs. Let me see.”

“I’m feeling much better now, Stephen.”

“Let me see.”

Loki’s belly was soft and no particular region was any more tender than the other. More importantly, there was neither the tell-tale pull of magic, nor the pulse of new life that he could sense under his seeking palm.

Stephen heaved a sigh, though he did not dare say if it was one of disappointment or relief.

“Told you I’m fine.”

“Right, because you would so willingly come to the infirmary just for the fun of it,” Stephen said quietly.  

“Shall we go?” He straightened up and held out a hand. “Can you walk, or should I get a wheelchair?”

Loki only gave him a bitchface reserved for the most special of occasions.

______________________________

Loki slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning like a fish out of water.

If this was what the flu looked like on an Asgardian then they were in for a long, long ride.

“Loki?” After the fifth time Loki’s fidgeting had woken him up, Stephen was becoming exhausted himself.

“Hot,” was all Loki would mumble, before curling in on himself again.

It was near dawn when Stephen woke again, this time to the sound of someone gasping loudly as if in shock or pain.

“Loki?” He pushed himself up on one elbow, peering blearily at the figure sitting upright, his shaking form hunched and folded double unto himself.

“Something’s not right, Stephen.” Loki sounded scared and in a lot of pain. _“Fuck.”_

Stephen waved his hand and the room was instantly bathed in light.

“Loki,” he swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to be alarmed…”

Loki unfurled from his cocoon of pain despite the heavy protests of his cramping stomach. “What? What is it?”

He let out a stream of expletives, most of which thankfully not in English, at the sight of fresh, red blood staining one half of the bed –

Like the Polish flag, Stephen thought crazily. _This is no flu._

“Stephen, this is not normal, _hngh_!” Loki shuddered as another round of severe cramps gripped his lower abdomen.

“Ya think?” Stephen had already scrambled to his feet and put on his dressing robe hastily. Loki could barely stand, let alone walk –

“Hang on,” Stephen said tightly as they teleported.

___________________________________

“It didn’t catch.”

Loki did not need a mirror to see the sudden pallor of his husband’s face probably matched his own.

“I have suffered such losses before, husband.” Loki patted the back of Stephen’s hand, looking a little breathless himself. “ _Please_ , breathe.”

“Not like this.”

“Sure, I’ve never bled this much and never at such an early stage too, but I don’t see how it’s any different,” Loki said tiredly. “Don’t you humans suffer from failed pregnancies too?”

“This was all my fault.” Stephen’s voice still had that numb, shell-shocked nuance Loki was liking less and less with each passing second.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was.” Loki studied him suspiciously. “The guy next door has food poisoning from eating mouldy bread so I guess that’s your fault too.”

The stricken look on Stephen’s face was enough to ring the alarm bells in Loki’s head. His heart began to pound.

“Stephen, what did you do?”

“I found a spell.”

Though he had read and reread the potential adverse side effects, the spell must have required some sort of Jotunn modification he had stupidly overlooked. 

“You found a spell,” Loki echoed.

Even a stickler-for-details like Stephen was bound to miss out on the important fine print from time to time, and here they were. In the midst of a bloody disaster. Again.

"And what does this spell do _exactly_?" Loki asked as casually as one would, were one to ask about the weather.

“It’s an ancient Moroccan contraceptive spell that renders the seeds to not take…root.”

“What the _fuck_ does that mean.” Light-headed or not, Loki was not going to do this lying down. He pushed himself upright into a sitting position. The world spun but he did not care, letting the oncoming fury ground him enough to keep from swaying.

“It caught, but it didn’t develop further beyond the very primitive, anorganic embryonic stage.”

“So was I pregnant or was I not?”

Stephen shook his head. Loki recoiled in sick horror.

“The closest equivalent would be a chemical pregnancy in human terms.” There was no way Stephen was getting out of this unscathed, he could tell by looking at Loki’s paper-white face. “It is not compatible with life.”

“In other words, you extinguished it even before it was given life?” A disbelieving whisper. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Stephen was silent.

“I thought we _agreed_.” Loki’s voice was shaking. “We agreed to make every decision together.”

“We agreed to wait.” Stephen attempted a last-ditch effort to make Loki see reason.

“You would rather have me push a dead baby out of me than a live one?”

“Technically it hadn’t yet formed so it wasn’t a baby…exactly…”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we were arguing semantics too. You would rather have me push a ball of non-living cells out of me than a ball of organic, biological material capable of growing and differentiating into an actual baby, _our_ baby?”

“Whichever it was, I never intended for you to go through this.”

“Well it hurts the bloody same, Strange!”

From the look in Loki’s eyes, the pain went beyond the physical, his green eyes wet with tears.

The betrayal hurt far more, so much more. "We had a _deal_." 

"Loki, I know I should have discussed it with you -"

Too late for that.

“Get out,” Loki whispered. “Please.”

_______________________________________

Servants and Healers walked past hurriedly, their heads bowed, pretending they could not see him sitting on the floor outside Loki’s room. He could have conjured a chair but what right had he to comfort when Loki was hurting with pains of both the physical and emotional kind because of him?

Stephen could not care less what anyone else thought of him.

Only Loki.

 _“I made a mistake, Loki.”_ He had repeated the same sentence over and over for God knew how long and received nothing in the form of response. _“I’m sorry.”_

He had nearly dozed off when a sudden transmission jolted him awake.

_“Do you find loving me difficult, Stephen?”_

Stephen shot to his feet.

_“There is no difficult or easy about it, Loki. I just do.”_

Loki was silent.

_“But I do know one thing.”_

Still there was no answer. Stephen hoped that meant Loki was waiting to hear his.

 _“Not loving you is impossible.”_ He palmed the door, the physical barrier between him and his reason for living.

_“Magically castrating yourself is not the answer.”_

_“I know.”_ Stephen inhaled deeply. _“I’m sorry.”_

 _“I didn’t know what I was thinking,”_ Stephen lied. He knew exactly what he was thinking, he just could not bring himself to say it.

_“After what you had gone through with Stian, and then with Aífe, I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to go through any of that again.”_

_“No one ever said this was going to be easy, Strange.”_

Stephen would not have thought it possible to sense it through Mindspeak before. His heart sank.

Loki was _crying_.

_“Do you know why I am not afraid?”_

Stephen waited, because honestly, he had no idea why. All Stephen knew was if Loki did not fear losing his life just to give him children, Stephen was going to do it for him.

_“Because The Ancient One foresaw me with many children.”_

_“Perhaps in your future.”_ Stephen’s heart twisted in agony at the mere thought of Loki with someone else, someone that was not _him_.

“ _Perhaps not with me.”_

_“She foresaw me having many children. With you.”_

Stephen’s knees felt suddenly weak.  _“Loki…”_

_“Loki, please…can I just hold you?”_

_“You hurt me, Stephen.”_

_“I know, darling, I know.”_

_“You really hurt me.”_

_“Loki, my love, I am so, so sorry.”_

_“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t even have to look at me.”_ Stephen thumped his forehead once against the door. _“I just want to hold you.”_

After painfully long seconds that seemed to stretch into minutes,

The door unlocked itself with a touch of seidr and a gentle click, and at that moment, there was no sound more beautiful –

The sound of a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context, in this universe, Stephen and Loki are married with two children, Stian and Aífe. To say both Loki's pregnancies were eventful would be a gross understatement. Stephen is not a callous, cold-hearted guy, he's just developed a phobia (seeing how they're both very fertile beings of magic), and perhaps he should have talked to Loki about it but yeah. 
> 
> Any dialogue between Stephen and Loki that you see in Italic is spoken telepathically through this special connection they have i.e. Mindspeak. 
> 
> P/s - if you think I should fix the tags do let me know because I'm clueless.


	2. Chapter 2

“So the dosing is more or less the same like the last time, you can start at fifty units, titrate accordingly up to a hundred. Twice weekly injections, thrice if you’re feeling impatient.” Bruce arranged the fragile vials inside the box very carefully, careful to not let them touch. “You should see the blood count rise within a week.”

“Thanks, Banner.” Stephen gave him a tight smile. “Never thought we’d be needing this again.”

Bruce studied the gloomy expression on the sorcerer’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Define okay.”

Stephen sounded more curt than he intended. Bruce raised a hand in surrender.

“Sorry, Banner.” He forced a smile that never quite reached his eyes. “It’s been rough, but nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle.”

Stephen held the small box containing the vials of recombinant erythropoetin in the crook of his arm. He did not look particularly eager to leave.

Bruce sighed. It looked like his plan to cook a nice, big dinner for one just turned asunder.

Ah well. He would not have enjoyed it anyway, not if it meant turning Stephen away who was looking more and more like his proverbial dog had died by the second.

He led Stephen to the small sitting area next to his laboratory.

“Have you ever been married, Banner?” At least Stephen had the courtesy to whip them up some magic tea to precondition the unexpectedly sensitive question with.

“Yes. Once.” Bruce did not know why he was admitting to it readily.

“Children?”

“Almost.” If he did not know any better, he would have accused Stephen of casting a truth spell on him. “She lost it.”

“Then we lost each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seldom would Stephen’s body language betray him like this; he must be in way worse shape than he was letting on.

“You fear getting him pregnant.”

Stephen’s grey eyes regarded him silently, neither denying nor conforming.

“I understand that fear. More than anyone.” Perhaps that was the only reason why Strange was confiding in him.

“Am I doing the right thing, Banner?”

Banner waited until the obligatory minute of grace was up to be completely sure the question was not rhetorical, but a genuine one.

“I think your heart is in the right place.” He hesitated. “The methods…may be up to interpretation.”

From the way Stephen’s face fell, he gathered it was not exactly the answer Stephen was wanting to hear.

“They have a different concept of mortality,” Bruce said gently. “They don’t look at life or death quite the same way as us.”

Stephen’s face fell even further.

“And even then, Loki is a wildcard. He’s cheated death so many times, who knows how he looks at death anymore.”

“He doesn’t, that’s the problem. Cheated it so many times he thinks he is invincible.” Stephen forced through gritted teeth, “He isn’t.”

Bruce was silent for a while. Finally, “May I ask you something?”

Stephen’s eyebrow lifted a fraction, a symbolic shrug of the shoulder –

“Why do you think conceiving is an automatic death sentence for Loki?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Last time I checked, you have two healthy children and Loki is still alive.”

“Not for the lack of trying.”

“That implies that Loki is somehow suicidal and I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of other methods of offing oneself that are much less painful than childbirth.”

“What happened to him was not his fault, Stephen,” Bruce reasoned. “The curse would have caught up with him in the end no matter what. He just happened to be pregnant when it did.”

“It didn’t change the fact that he nearly lost his damn life.” Stephen buried a hand in his hair.

They never had any problem spacing the five years between Stian and Aífe. He did not think anything about him had particularly changed. “I was practicing caution, as one should be if one were in my position.”

“I don’t think it’s the spell that he had the biggest problem with,” Bruce said gently. “I don’t claim to know Loki as well as you or Thor, but if I were to hazard a guess, it was the going around his back that he took issue with.”

“He hates being kept in the dark, you know that.”

Stephen sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

“Talk to him.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“It took you a baby, a couple of near-death experiences on both your parts, and the whole of two and a half years to convince him to marry you.” Now it was Bruce’s turn to lift a sceptic eyebrow. “You giving up after just two days? Sounds like you never really wanted to talk to him in the first place.”

“You don’t hold back, do you, Dr Banner?”

“Hey. I have seven PhDs. I have OCD. I house a beast inside me.” He snorted. “Holding back is all I do. But it also gets you nowhere.”

He tilted his chin. “And it will definitely not give you _that.”_

Stephen finally smiled, patting the box in his arm. “Thanks again. This should get Loki back on his feet in no time. Things are getting boring on the home front.” _What will all the bitey conversation and sharp snippy remarks all but gone._

“I should get it patented,” Bruce mused contemplatingly. “With the money, maybe I can finally get myself emancipated from Tony.”

“Quite a niche market, don’t you think?” Stephen smirked. “Since Loki’s about the only person you can use it on.”

“If it’s compatible with Loki, then it’s compatible with your children, your children’s children, your grandchildren’s children –”

“I get the picture, Dr Banner, thank you,” Stephen gave a light-hearted chuckle. “Looks like Stark’s not the only Man of the Future around here.”

“Looks like.” They shook hands.

Bruce dimly remembered giving Loki the same advice a long time ago, and it worked then. _“Talk to him.”_

______________________________

 

Stephen found Loki sleeping in their room, with Aífe curled against him, her head a perfect fit in the crook of Loki’s neck.

Loki still fatigued easily.

Judging from the heating pad that had cooled down to room temperature, he must have been asleep for quite some time.

Stephen held it in between his hands and heated it up again with a quick warming spell. Once the temperature was just nice, he placed it back on Loki’s belly gently.

At the sudden warmth, Loki stirred. A sigh escaped his lips.

Uncertain if it was one of relief, or annoyance at having been wakened, Stephen offered a hesitant smile. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost eight in the evening.”

“You’ve been gone a while.”

“Got sidetracked. Bruce made lasagna, he packed some for you.”

“I’m not very hungry.” Loki licked his lips. “Quite thirsty though.”

Stephen held the straw to help him take a few sips without having to move Aífe. “How’s the bleeding?”

Loki wavered between being all vague without answering the actual question and sugarcoating the truth. He decided to tell it instead. “Not much better. Five, six pads since you left? I’ve lost count.”

Knowing Stephen, he would probably check the pad chart and catch him in a lie; Loki did not feel up to getting into another argument. Not when he still felt like crap and leagues away from his fighting fit.

“How long would you normally bleed for after…” Stephen could not bring himself to say it. “You know?”

“Three, four days.” Loki shut his eyes. He still felt exhausted. “But that’s naturally speaking, of course.”

“When it’s magically-induced like this, who knows.”

Stephen was silent. A heavy stillness settled over the air, dropping the temperature even more than the Scandinavian night air was accountable for.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

For a fraction of a second, Loki’s lips worked as if to say something, but the moment was gone even before it registered to Stephen that perhaps he should have rephrased his offer better; an open-ended question, a simple ‘Are you okay’ or even the ubiquitous ‘Do you need anything?’ would have been better than something so conditional, so _final_.

The shuttered look in Loki’s eyes snuffed the conversation in the bud, and he only turned his head to close his eyes against Aífe’s full head of hair.

Any other day just the sight of his husband cocooned around their baby girl like that would have had him climbing in bed to join them so fast it was almost always worth Loki’s wrath when he would inevitably end up waking the baby.

Stephen sighed.

He was not looking forward to sleeping outside again tonight but he wondered if he had not done it to himself; an act of self-flagellation misguided though it may be, unconsciously digging a hole he probably had to wait till the next morning to climb out of.

__________________________________

“Daddy?”

“Hey buddy. Can’t sleep?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t you have dinner at Uncle Thor’s?”

“I didn’t eat a lot.”

“Why? Was the food not very good?”

“It was good. There was my favourite fried chicken and sweet potato fries and Uncle Thor even had ice cream.”

“I bet you ate a lot.” Maybe this was what people meant when they said feeding a growing boy could land you in debt the size of a country. Stephen did not mind the debt so much, not yet anyway. Stian’s mercurial appetite was legendary.

“I only had a piece.”

Stephen lifted his eyebrows. “Oh dear. What happened?”

“I wanted a chicken thigh.”

“Did you ask him for it?”

“Yes.”

“Surely he would have given you one?”

“But he offered me the right thigh. I wanted the left one.”

“Stian. What could possibly be the difference between the right and the left?” More importantly, “How in the world could you even tell them apart?”

“Right one’s tougher than the left, obviously.”

“Right.” Stephen blinked. “Obviously.”

Stian’s stomach let out a mournful growl.

Stephen muttered under his breath, “You’re really your Pappa’s son, aren’t you.”

He swept his blanket aside and rose, staring down on the back of his son’s downcast head.

“What would you like? Chicken nuggets?”

“Do I have to pick through them before I fry them?” He pulled out a box that had pictures of dinosaur-shaped chicken things on it. “I don’t want you to just eat T-rex and chuck Triceratops in the bin later.”

“I think they’re all Brachiosaurus, Daddy.”

Stephen popped a handful of Brachiosauruses into the air fryer and turned it on.

 “Why didn’t you tell Uncle Thor what you wanted?” If anyone could put up with Stian’s strange requests, it would be his ever-loving uncle. Thor would oblige, no questions asked, wouldn’t even bat an eye –

 “I love Uncle Thor,” Stian said simply.

“Okay…and?” Stephen prompted further.

“I didn’t want to ask for too much. I don’t want Uncle Thor to hate me.”

Stephen frowned. “Uncle Thor would never hate you.”

“One day he might,” Stian said softly.

Unrest stirred in Stephen’s gut. “Something on your mind, buddy?”  

Stian looked at him sadly.

“You know you can tell me things, right?”

“Why have you been sleeping outside, Daddy?”

“I just – your Pappa…” he hesitated. “He needs some space right now, Stian.”

“But your bed is so big, Daddy. Not like mine, mine’s tiny.”

“Not that kind of space, I’m afraid. Your Pappa’s hurting right now.”

“Poor Pappa…” Stian looked forlornly in the direction of his parents' closed bedroom door.

After a beat, he asked hesitantly, “Is that why he’s been crying, Daddy?”

Stephen stared at him.

Stian needed no prompting this time. “I heard him. When he thought I wasn’t looking.”

“I asked him if he was okay.” Stian looked very worried now. “He said he just had a bad dream.”

“Did this happen today? When I was away?”

Stian nodded.

“How come Pappa’s dreams hurt, Daddy?” Leaning forward, Stian slid both his elbows across the countertop and propped his cheeks in his hands. “Mine doesn’t. I dream I fall off horses sometimes, but it never hurts.”

Stephen took a glass out of the overhead cabinet. He poured in orange juice up to a third, and topped up the rest of the glass with water.

The air fryer startled him with a loud ding. Stephen tipped the nuggets onto a plate and waved a cooling spell over them so Stian did not have to wait. “Dig in,” he said softly, running a distracted hand through Stian’s hair.

Stian munched. “Maybe Aífe can sleep with me.”

“What?”

“So you don’t have to worry about space anymore.” In a bizarre parallel, Stian somehow managed to cram two nuggets into his mouth.

Either he was not kidding about being hungry, or he had picked up some really bad habits, from Thor most possibly. Stephen could barely make out the words, what with his mouth being so full – “She can have my bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. If I sleep on the floor next to my window, I can see the stars and they’re really pretty.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Stian.”

“You shouldn’t sleep outside anymore, Daddy,” Stian said seriously. “Pappa’s dreams sounded like they really hurt.”

Stephen walked around the island and slowly sat on the stool next to his son. He watched Stian eat.

When Stian reached out a hand for the glass, instead of pushing it closer to him, Stephen grabbed his son around the waist and pulled him into his lap.

Stian drank half his juice. “That was yummy, Daddy. Thank you.”

Stephen buried his face in the back of Stian’s head and breathed in the grounding scent of his son’s hair deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of processed chicken products and baby shampoo to remind him of what was real and important.

“No, Stian. Thank _you_.”

__________________________________

Aífe’s cries echoing in the silence of the night broke Stephen’s reverie. He abandoned the washing up and hurriedly dried his hands.

The room was pitch dark but he could hear the rustling under the covers as Loki made to rise –

“Don’t get up. I’ve got her.”

There was a small light next to the baby cot but it illuminated little beyond the baby changing station, yet Stephen could feel Loki’s eyes on him as he changed his daughter.

All it took was a nappy change and a feed to settle her, and Stephen tucked her in the cot. They had been blessed with very peaceful babies both times, but if Stian’s energy level was any benchmark to go by, the peace should not last long, Stephen thought fondly.

“Stian asleep yet?” Loki asked finally, and not for the first time, Stephen wondered if Loki’s secret arsenal of superpowers included telepathy; how he seemed to read Stephen’s train of thoughts unnerved him sometimes.

“Yes, I just put him to bed,” Stephen said quietly.

Loki pried the heating pad off his midsection and tossed it onto the dresser. It had gone cold, so much so it was doing more hurting than helping.

Stephen lay on his usual side of the bed. Odd just how two nights away from the marital bed could leave it feeling strange under his skin, like it did not recognise him anymore.

“Are you in pain?”

The answer for every time the question was asked for the past two days had either been in the negative or more often utter silence.

_Please._

_Share your fears, share your pains_

Stephen could not be the only one who remembered Thor’s words.

“Yes.” Loki’s voice was small but there was no way Stephen had misheard, he was watching Loki’s lips when he said it –

Good enough. Stephen rolled over until he was almost on top of his rigid husband. He wrapped an arm around the back of Loki’s waist and slipped the other around his shoulder girdle. Without so much as a warning, he flipped Loki over, allowing gravity and the full weight of his body pull Loki toward and on top of him.

“Lose your clothes.”

“I really shouldn’t, I will soil you.”

“It’s only blood, Loki.”

“Stephen.”

“Trust me.”

Reluctantly Loki half-obliged, and his top disappeared, leaving only his sleeping pants.

And the moment his bare belly came into contact with Stephen’s comfortingly warm torso, he let out a low moan.

“Alright?”

Loki nodded, his chin digging into Stephen’s shoulder as he writhed in a heady mix of pain, fast fading and melding into pleasure; this was better than any heating pad in the world. He gyrated languidly against the pulsating core of healing magic at Stephen’s solar plexus as the cramps loosened.

He breathed in deeply.

Stephen smelled strangely of chicken and babies. “For all that you want, for all that you need.” Stephen whispered in his ear, low and husky. “Remember?”

Loki nodded again.

“I’ve missed you.”

Loki almost wept. _“I’ve missed you too.”_

“You ready to talk now?”

Now that the maddening ache in his belly had finally eased, Loki was ready for anything. He nodded yet again.

_“I understand why you did it, Stephen.”_

“You do?”

_“You only did what you promised. You tried to protect me.”_

“I only ended up hurting you. Again and again.”

“Yeah because you tend to take matters into your own hand and you forget that I am a creature perfectly capable of logical reasoning and critical thinking.” This time Loki spoke in his true voice. “I am guilty of the same…so who am I to say.”

Stephen said nothing. Loki was right after all.

“Had you only come to me, we could have looked at the spells together.” The tone of regret and hurt in Loki’s voice was as raw as ever. “We could have avoided all this.”

Still Stephen said nothing. Loki was still right.

 _“I’m not crazy, Stephen,”_ Loki was back to Mindspeaking. _“Aífe’s barely weaned off and the last thing I want is another baby.”_

“Will we get past this, Loki?”

_“We got past this when I tried to do it back when we first met and Stian almost never came into being.”_

What must have Loki felt when what should have only been a one-night stand turned into a nightmare situation right out of a day TV soap opera? Alone, with child, and a stranger he knew absolutely nothing about other than the fact that he was a fellow magic user and a human to boot? Stephen could only guess, and from the reckless split-second decision Loki had made, he probably guessed it right that Loki had been terrified.

“I’ve forgiven you for that a long time ago, darling,” he said, and meant it.

_“Only because I failed.”_

“No. Because you trusted me enough in that instant to give us a chance and not attempt it again.”

“We would have missed out on so much.” Stephen nuzzled his nose into the side of Loki’s head. “Stian is _magic_ at its purest.”

“He is the best of both of us.” Stephen searched for his lips, and Loki navigated his face to where they were easiest found. “He’s…going to be so powerful. Perhaps more powerful than the two of us combined.”

“And I’m happy, Loki. I’m happy with just Stian and Aífe. And you.” He felt Loki’s belly clench against his own once more, and Stephen called on his magic to calm it again. Loki shuddered and relaxed against him.

“There has to be you.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Loki reared his head, voice adamant. “We will. _Together.”_

Stephen concurred. “Together.”

“Or I swear, on my blood and the blood of my ancestors I never had the pleasure to meet, I will grow you a set of women bits and let you carry our next three children.” Loki’s eyes glinted dangerously in the dark. “Simultaneously.”

Stephen shivered. He knew an empty threat when he heard one. This wasn’t it.

“Okay, Loki.”

“Good.” Loki purred. “Now can we skip the rest of the sappy conversation and go straight to shagging?”

Stephen’s forehead furrowed. “Loki, you’re still not well.”

“In my body, yes.”

“And how else does one engage in sexual intercourse if not in body?”

Loki shoved his left hand in his face. His ring gleamed and thrummed with magic. “If you could kiss me in astral form, that means you can fuck me in astral form.”

“Ah.” Stephen had never even thought of that. _“Kinky.”_


	3. Chapter 3

“Loki…”

He should have known Loki’s first go-to position once in astral form was right on their bedroom ceiling. Defying gravity had taken on a completely new meaning, one he was very eager to reexplore…some other time.

“Loki, we have to get back.”

“In a minute, Strange.”

He had to agree though. He could see the appeal. There was something about making love upside down while staring at their corporeal forms lying inanimate down below that was making him feel all sorts of funny and tingly inside.

“Any longer and we risk not being able to return, darling.”

“And that’s bad?”

“That’s very bad.”

Loki groaned. “But we’ve only just started.”

Stephen had to laugh.

“What is it, Loki?”

“I like it like this.” Loki unconsciously undulated along the length of Stephen’s body, “It doesn’t hurt as much.”

_It doesn’t hurt at all._

“Our physical bodies have stopped breathing long enough, Loki.” Stephen smiled tightly. “Tell you what. I’ll go back first and hold you, so you wouldn’t feel a thing when you return, alright?”

Loki perked up a little. “Alright.”

Stephen returned to his body and upon regaining his bearing, he quickly turned to grab Loki’s corporeal body around the waist, pulling it closer to him.

“Quickly now, Loki – ”

Loki swooped down and felt his psyche merge seamlessly with his physical body; with the return of the heaviness of his limbs he waited fearfully for the pain to resurface. When it did not, he palmed the back of Stephen’s hand and sighed in relief.

“Try and get some sleep, Loki.”

“Thank you, Stephen,” he murmured. “That was fun while it lasted.”

Stephen chuckled softly. But his mirth did not last long. He kneaded Loki’s tense stomach gently, dispensing his magic morphine as was second nature to him by now. “ _Please_ get well soon.”

Loki inhaled deeply. The pain, however bad, he could handle. The guilt that was seeping from Stephen’s very pores was something else altogether.

On better days he would have had his fun milking it as much as he liked, but he could tell from the forceful way Stephen’s forehead was pressed against the back of his head that Stephen was doing his silent apologising thing again.

“Stephen.” He felt his husband stiffen. “It’s okay.”

"No, it's not," Stephen said forcefully. “It’s not okay, Loki.” 

He murmured into Loki's hair. “I hate causing you pain.”

Loki was silent. Nothing he could say was likely to assuage Stephen’s melancholy, not when he was in one of his brooding moods, once-rare, now infuriatingly commonplace.

“Creating life should be something wonderful. Beautiful. Magical.” He emphasised each apt description of what conceiving should ideally be with a kiss to the back of Loki’s head. “Everything that you are.”

He remembered Loki’s words from earlier. Horrific agony, was what he said.

Stian had taken them both by surprise. With Aífe, there was no excuse, when he had been the one who promised Loki that they would do it right the second time around to begin with.

“I need to figure out how to stop causing you pain.”

Loki wished he could turn around and see just what sort of expression Stephen was wearing on his face. His husband was no longer talking about the disastrous Moroccan abortive spell, that was for damn sure.

“It is hardly surprising, Strange,” Loki said tiredly. “I am not human, remember?”

“Well, until I do, we will only be doing it in astral form.” Stephen sounded resolute. “Souls need a physical form to exist. This way we can be sure you won’t get pregnant.”

“Stephen…”

“I know it isn’t as fulfilling, my dear, but I really must insist.”

“I hate having to time myself. I suspect you do too. Ravishing me should not involve you looking at the clock every few minutes, it is quite unsettling.” Loki sniffed. “Not to mention rude.”

“That’s sweet of you, Loki, but there’s only so many times the sight of you suffering through excruciating pain I can take, and I’ve taken enough to last a lifetime, thank you very much.”

“No more.” Stephen hugged him tighter. “Not at the expense of your health.”

“I can take pain, Strange.”

“Oh I know you can,” he said breezily. “But _I_ can’t.”

“I’m human, remember? And a doctor. I can’t,” he murmured in Loki’s ear. “It is against everything I believe in. Everything that I _am_.”

Stephen inhaled deeply and his heart twisted when he caught the scent of blood; Loki was still bleeding heavily. Perhaps he needed to scan Loki again tomorrow, see if there was any retained product of conception left inside him that might need evacuating before the bleeding could finally stop. “You have no idea how much this is killing me, Loki.”

“Oh, I _do_ ,” Loki whispered. “I just wish you could see that it doesn’t matter.”

Loki continued in that infuriating, matter-of-fact manner Stephen had grown to dislike very much. “No matter how much pain I’m in, how close you think I am to death, it doesn’t matter,” he stressed. “Because in the end, it is all worth it.”

Stephen felt a shiver run down his spine. Banner was right. Perhaps that was how these ancient beings wiled away the centuries, throwing caution to the wind and doing whatever they damn well pleased, knowing that they were likely to come away unscathed. And even if they died, what did it matter? They had lived long enough.

But to hear Loki say it out loud was chilling.

“Loki, please.”

“Stian and Aífe are worth it, Stephen.” Loki’s voice had gone chilly. “Don’t you dare say otherwise.”

“Stian and Aífe are my world,” Stephen said fiercely. “And so are you.”

“Now you may think you’ve lived long enough that it doesn’t matter if you die today, or tomorrow, but it matters to _me_.” The anger was seeping through his fingers and Loki’s belly _burned_. He winced and tried to pry Stephen’s hand off, but Stephen was having none of it. “You promised an eternity with _me_ , Loki.”

“I’ve only had you for six years.” Stephen’s hot breath whistled against his ear. “You want to steal the rest of it from me?”

Loki squirmed, and an involuntary whimper escaped him; he did not like where this was going, not at all.

“I’ve got fifty years left on my clock if I’m lucky, sixty tops.” Stephen’s voice was starting to shake. “Am I not worth you staying alive just a little bit longer?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Loki whispered. “You know I don’t like it.”

“Well, _ditto_ , Loki!”

A stunned silence ensued.

“Okay, Stephen. Okay.”

At long last, Loki managed to extricate himself from Stephen’s scorching hot touch.

Instead of pulling away completely, he twisted around and turned to face his husband. Stephen was so distraught his face was red, his breaths shallow and tight.

Loki laid a cool hand on Stephen’s bare chest.

If Stephen was fire, he was ice.

“Okay, Stephen. You win.” Loki kissed him softly.

“I don’t give a damn about winning.” All fire died out from Stephen’s eyes in an instant and they softened. “My only concern is you.”

Loki curled into a foetal position and buried his face in Stephen’s chest. “Okay.”

“Okay?” A finger tilted his chin up.

Anything to make the pain in Stephen’s eyes go away.

“Okay.” Loki acquiesced, and sealed his promise with another kiss.

______________________________________

 

Loki seldom dreamt of her. He would have dreamt of her more, if he could have his way.

He was standing once again in her sunroom. The breeze felt cool against his face. The hair on the back of his neck stood and true enough, her fingers curled around the nape of his neck and a soft kiss landed on his cheek soon after.

“Mother.” An arm wrapped around his waist.

She never spoke in these dreams.

They watched the suns rise silently, as was their routine every morning if they happened to cross paths heading for their morning tea. They were both early risers.

Like mother like son, Loki used to think. Back when she was still his mother and he her son.

She would salute Asgard’s twin suns with a sip of morning sherry each, her one Midgardian vice, a habit Loki was glad he never picked up on; its nutty dry aroma his delicate senses never found quite to his liking, but one he tolerated all the same.

Without fail, she would offer him a sip every time, and he would shake his head in amusement and politely decline.

She looked especially beautiful this morning.

Valhalla must be treating her well.

He had always thought it was by her choice that she visit him in these dreams…that even when she died, a part of her magic stayed with her and allowed her to Dreamwalk as she so chose, just like she used to do when she was alive.

And as the years passed, he began to believe it was the other way around, that if he missed her enough, if he needed her enough, she would come. If one were to offer a more rational outlook, (one referring to a certain someone who went by the name of Stephen Strange), it was most likely his subconscious, trying to fill a void her untimely demise had left.

He refused to believe that. That was why he stopped sharing his dreams with people. They always liked to put a dampener on things.

His mother missed him too, just as much as he missed her.

Her eyes looked worried as they roamed his face.

With great skill, she deftly poured out of her venencia some of the awful amontillado she fancied into another tasting glass.

 _Drink_ , Her eyes implored.

“No, Mother – ” he started to shake his head.

“Drink,” she said, and his heart leapt at the sound of her voice. His dream fingers accepted the glass. He turned to look at the suns once more.

Asgard gleamed before them, as brilliant and resplendent as he always remembered it.

He followed his mother’s cue and downed the shot in one go. It burned nutty and bone dry against his throat.

And he gasped as the Suns eclipsed right before his eyes, catapulting Asgard into total, obliterating darkness –

“Mother?” He could not even see her anymore. He groped for her, his hands catching nothing but empty air and nothingness.

“Mother!”

_______________________________________

“Loki, wake up!”

Loki jolted awake, and bolted upright.

“Bad dream?” He dimly heard Stephen ask. His face was wet. Tasting salt on his tongue, he knew not whether it be of tears or sweat.

Loki shook his head. How could anything with his Mother in it be bad?

“You…wanna talk about it?” Stephen asked hesitantly.

Loki shook his head again. He could still taste the bloody sherry at the back of his throat, and it took all he had not to gag. “Water,” he croaked.

He could hear the clang of glassware as Stephen poured him a drink from the pitcher kept on their bedside table. “Cold or hot?”

“Hot, please.” Cold would have probably worked better to chase the taste away but he felt chilled down to the bone – he hoped he was not running another fever. Stephen warmed the cup up with his microwave hands and Loki savoured its warmth for a few seconds, before gulping it all down in one go.

It warmed him inside, and he shivered involuntarily. Naturally Stephen saw, and drew him in, rubbing his arms up and down to ward off the chill.

The darkness was too fresh a lingering hurt from the dream; Loki kept his eyes open as he focused on a distant object and tried to regulate his breathing. Aífe’s little hand sticking out from the cot railing was the grounding element he needed, and Loki began to calm down.

“Alright now?” Stephen’s hand was on his back now. He could sense it, Stephen was dying to ask, but Loki did not think he could speak of it, of her, just yet.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Twice now, he’d had the same dream.

What could it mean?

__________________________________________

 

“Come on, Highness, you can do better than that –” She twisted her body out of the way just as Loki’s dagger swiped a wide arc that would have cleanly cut into her side had she been a split second slower.

“I wouldn’t want to put a scratch on that pretty face of yours, m'lady!” Loki’s left hand was just as adept as his right, and she glanced out the corner of her eye as a few locks of her hair fell victim to the razor-sharpness of his dagger. _Damn it!_

“Not the hair, Loki!” She growled, dropping to the ball of one foot and lashing out the other leg to sweep his legs from under him, but the eyes on the back of his head saw the move and he leaped out of the way gracefully.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your chances!” He grinned crazily. “Next debutante ball’s coming up.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need looks, Lackey.” Twirling her daggers in the air, she used the distraction to elbow him in the chest, pushing him back a few steps. Instead of rebounding to butt her in the face like she half-thought he would, Loki let himself fall backward in a semi-somersault, and twisted his legs in mid-air like a corkscrew, catching her around the waist and toppling her onto the ground.

“Aww. You think I’m pretty.” He loomed over her, as she once did a long, long time ago before the moment she punched him in the face and took him prisoner on Sakaar as a peace offering to Thor.

“Pretty _slow!_ ” She bucked her pelvis upward with as much strength as she could muster, and that threw Loki off her; with lightning speed, she propelled herself upward and slid a knee across his pelvis, pinning him down –

And a blast of seidr forcefully threw her off him, sending her rolling a few feet sideways.

Valkyrie groaned. “Oh, come on. Thought we agreed!” She leapt to her feet. “Hand-to-hand combat only!”

“Thought you wanted to break a sweat?” Loki lightly held a hand to his waist. At her look of chagrin, he waved her concern away. “Sorry about that, I’m still a little sensitive down there.”

“Nice footwork,” she tried, still feeling more than a little guilty. Loki may have twisted her arm and got her to spar, but she would have preferred if he had not done so so soon after leaving his sickbed.

But she also knew the Prince was a being possessed of great pride, and she had made a promise to herself to indulge him as best as she could; it was that promise that made her stay her tongue lest she say something that would incite his wrath like asking if he was alright. It was annoying the hell out of him that he had to stop their sparring session so prematurely, the look on his face was telling enough.

“Something on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You let a few blows through.”

“They were good blows.”

“Not good enough for you, not usually.” She hesitated. “I haven’t tired you out?”

“I’m fine, Val.” Loki gave a small smile, but it reached neither his eyes nor his gait, and he trudged heavily back to the patio overlooking the garden below.

Feeling his Pappa’s eyes on him, Stian who was lying on the grass on his belly looked up from his giant atlas of dinosaurs and smiled.

Loki conjured a chaffinch and blew it down his son’s way. It chirped and sang its morning song as it said hello to the sun and Stian, who in turn reached to pet the bird, knowing full well the illusion was going to disperse but unable to resist anyway.

Loki looked down at his hand.

“Val.”

She walked over to join him, a glass of ice water in each hand. She handed one to him.

“Do you happen to know the life span of a Jotunn?”

“What an odd question.” She took a sip. “What brought this on?”

Loki did not answer.

“We fought Hela together. We’ve been sparring partners for a few years now.” He watched intently at the green sparks flickering from the tips of his fingers. “Have you noticed anything…different? About me?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “No different than usual.”

“Really?” Loki’s voice was soft, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“Why?” She asked sharply. “And don’t say nothing, not unless you want me to clobber you and tip you over this balcony right in front of your son.”

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.” Loki was still talking to himself.

“They live as long as the Aesir more or less, that’s why we were such well-matched mortal enemies. Your biological father Laufey had been King for at least two thousand years when I left Asgard after…you know.”

When Thor said Loki did not take the news of his adoption very well, she had a suspicion he might have left out a few important details. She was walking on very thin ice now.

“All your books in your wonderful library back in Asgard didn’t tell you what you needed to know?”

Loki unconsciously massaged his left forearm at the memory of the first icy revelation of his identity. “Ironically, the more my parents tried to convince me they loved me, the more convinced I became that I was truly the monster everyone said I was, and the less I wanted to find out about my…true nature.”

He inhaled deeply, his tired and drawn face suddenly looking every inch his “Fifteen hundred years old, and no one can tell me what I desperately wish to know.”

“And what is it that you’re dying to know?”

“How astute of you, Valkyrie.” He spoke with a sudden awe in his voice. “Yes. Yes, I guess I am dying to know.”

“I didn’t mean that literally, you idio-” She frowned. “What are we talking about now?”

“Stephen is afraid of me.”

“What.” She said flatly.

He lifted a finger, “Wait, I must rephrase.” He corrected, “He is afraid _for_ me.”

“What.” She repeated, still just as flatly.

“He thinks he has damaged me. That childbearing has damaged me.” The words were pouring out of him like water –

“You’ve had children before, Loki. Before him. It’s never done you any permanent harm…?”

“He believes that bearing more children will kill me.”

“Uh, are you sure he actually said that?” She tried appealing to his sense, or absence of, self-awareness. “You kinda have a habit of taking away the worst interpretation of the most well-meaning of words, Highness.”

“You’re not helping, Val.”

“Well, how do you feel in yourself, then?” She was really not good at this. “Physically?”

“My physical strength is fine. Well. I have a ways to go before I could defeat Thor in combat but if you give me a few years –”

“That is if you can manage to keep all your blood contained in your circulatory system long enough in the meantime, why is it we can’t go a few months without a blood bank crisis again?” She snorted accusingly. “No sooner had we collected enough from you to feel secure, you ended up needing it for some reason or another.”

“Now you sound like Stephen.” His smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come on. “As I was saying, it is not my body that I feel is failing me.”

“You’re in tune with your seidr, aren’t you? What is it telling you?”

Loki only stared at her unhappily.

“You can’t be serious.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Not only do you have Asgardian magic at your disposal, your ice magic near turned Asgard inhabitable and that was back when you were pregnant, mind you. And don’t think I don’t know about that blood magic stunt you pulled not long after.”

“Just because your beauty sleep lasted a bit longer than you expected doesn’t mean jack shit.”

“If Stephen hadn’t pulled me out, I would still be asleep, Valkyrie.”

“Wait. You think being with Fancy Man has made you…weaker?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, turned horror. “How does that work? Oh. _Oh_. Did we make a huge mistake and marry you off to a seidr _vampire?!_ ”

He stared at her. “Have you been hanging out with that friend of his? Wong?”

“Hey he’s actually great fun. It’s thanks to you that we get to even hang out at all.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But seriously. Is everything alright with you two?”

Loki bit the inside of his lower lip hesitantly.

“I’m terribly sorry to ask such a sensitive question but you – the Valkyrie, you were all biologically female, yes?” She blinked a few times, hoping he would get the hint and skip the silly question and jump straight to the core one.

“How did you manage to not get you know, in the family way?”

“You mean how did we manage to not get easily knocked up like you?”

“Yes.” Loki was dead serious.

“We swore a vow of celibacy.”

“Surely you would need to complement that with something more…foolproof?”

“What do you take me for?” She held her hands to her hips. “I take my vows very seriously.”

“Quite right.” He did not wish to argue. He cleared his throat. “Anyway.”

“My…spells don’t seem to protect me as well as they used to.” He hesitated, wondering if he should be sharing such private matters with anyone at all.

Loki had no choice. He had no one else. And the Valkyrie must know that too, for why else was she listening to his diatribe with a patience he had never known her to possess. “Stephen…seems to break through them without any effort at all.”

“Have you tried those, um, plastic…sheath…things?”

“Plastic sheath things?”

“Yeah, plastic sheath things. I saw them selling those at one of those Midgardians shops and I was curious.”

“You were curious.”

“They were next to the booze and they came in very colourful packages and delicious-sounding flavours.”

“Stop. Valkyrie.” Loki covered his ears. “You’re killing me.”

“Highness, please appreciate the effort I’m putting in here, you know I find this as painful as you do, if not even more.”

“Well? Don’t you think it’s worth a try?”

“We did, try.” Loki grumbled, “My seidr burns it to oblivion upon contact every time.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“It is a foreign body,” Loki said helplessly.

“Right…” She frowned, totally aware that she was becoming more invested in his predicament by the minute. “Maybe...maybe it’s not your seidr, maybe it’s something else…”

Loki tried not to sound overly hopeful. “Yes?”

“Any similarities between the two times you got pregnant you could think of? Unusual symptoms, something that might indicate you were..um..fertile at the time?” She caught herself. “Do you even know your cycles?”

Loki shook his head ruefully. He did not know if he even had cycles, it would have been so much easier if he did. “The night Stian was conceived I had been drinking way more than I should…”

“And the night before you miscarried you were drinking as well – ” Valkyrie’s eyes lit up, then she cackled. “That’s it! No more boozing Lackey. It blitzes your contraceptive spells to fritz.”

“Good theory, Val, but I had not been drinking with Aífe.” He made a slight face. “We weren’t expecting her either. After five successful years of spacing too, mind you, which I find to be a total mystery.”

“Now I live in fear of falling pregnant every time Stephen so much as looks at me.”

She shook her head. “Poor you.”

“Do you know of anybody who can help me?” There was no mistaking the look of desperation in his eyes, no matter how delicately he tried to phrase his request. “Surely there are old-time survivors out there who might know of a…potion or two?”

Valkyrie hesitated. “I’m…not sure if you should go down that route, Highness. Your Fancy Man will have my head if anything happens to you, if your brother doesn’t get to it first.”

“Why do you call him that?”

“It’s a term of endearment, Lackey.” She pointed an imaginary gun at him and grinned mischievously. “Case in point.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good conversation, Val.”

“Oh. And I never did answer your question, did I?” She stopped short in her tracks. “They took our wombs out. The tubes, pipes, the whole works.”

“ _What_.”

“The Great Odin, the God of War and Death, did like to be thorough.” She sighed. “Back then, anyway.”

She gave Loki one last, sad smile.

“At least your whole is complete, Highness.” A quick wave before she sashayed out of the room. “Do try and keep it that way.”

_____________________________________________

Stephen knew Loki was worried about something, something beyond the latest marital issue plaguing their relationship, which he was hoping had been somewhat resolved. Loki ran hot or cold, but never distracted for this long – the past week he had been distant but not hostilely so.

Just…detached.

Stephen feared it might have something to do with the recurring dream Loki had been having and refusing to talk about. The Stephen of old would have probably just bulldozed his way in and Dreamwalked the hell out of it, but it was not worth risking their recently-forged, renewed peace.

The depth of Loki’s worry was congruent with the ferocity of his sexual appetite, as though indulging in carnal pleasures was some form of escapism that Stephen was all too keen to oblige, if it meant having Loki close enough to keep an eye on.

“Loki,” Stephen murmured against his lips. The thing about astral sex was the freedom of doing it wherever they pleased, and tonight, the balcony was Loki’s choice of poison – it was agreed upon that they were never to stray far away from their bedroom no matter how great the temptation, perhaps when Aífe was a bit bigger and no longer co-sleeping could they venture into something more adventurous. The last thing they wanted was a servant to overhear the crying princess and find the empty shells that were supposed to be her parents lying on the bed.

Loki straddled Stephen’s hips and the sight of his Ice Prince stark naked, on the balcony no less, would have certainly thrown him off-balance had they been corporeal and Stephen could not have saved them from plummeting some twenty feet below.

The fact that they could only stay separated from their mortal flesh for no longer than half an hour at any one time was doing little to satisfy the gaping abyss in Loki’s heart, but it was all Stephen was offering, not until he could convince his husband that Loki was no fragile relic –

He locked his legs around Stephen’s waist and pulled him deeper inside him. The itch was maddening, his seidr was crawling under his skin in a paraesthesia akin to formication, unpleasant and prickling, and it was driving him insane.

He could not understand this burning deep within him, he wished Stephen could just reach inside him and douse it.

“Loki, slow down – ” Stephen was getting a little breathless himself. Loki was on fire tonight.

They shuddered as they came together as one, joined together so deeply that Loki’s arms were locked around the pillar behind him instead of his neck. The euphoria stole all breath out of him and Stephen sagged against the very pillar Loki was clinging to for dear life –

“Loki.” He inhaled deeply. “That was…”

“Yeah?” Loki breathed out cheekily.

Stephen opened his eyes blearily. Loki was glowing, his skin as radiant as the palest moonlight, his eyes as green as gemstones, brilliant and cutting sharp. “I love you.”

Loki’s smile softened. He looked content, at long last. “Ditto.”

Stephen laughed.

“It beats making pottery, doesn’t it?” Loki’s voice lost its crisp lustre; it was now husky and breathy. Stephen answered with a slow, languid kiss.

Aífe began to cry.

“Think that’s our cue…” he murmured, stealing another kiss from Loki’s lips, softer now in astral form if that was even possible –

“In a minute,” Loki chewed on Stephen’s lower lip, a sign that he wanted Stephen to kiss him harder.

“That’s going to be your favourite line from now on, isn’t it.”

“How do you figure, Doctor?”

Stephen threw his head back and laughed again. He braced his hands on each side of Loki’s hipbones and extricated himself from underneath Loki’s weightless form. But he obliged and planted one last, hard kiss. “Come on, Loki. Time’s nearly up.”

Loki let out a low moan. The itch was all but gone, and the burning in his belly subsided, but he wanted to have another go –

Ah well. Aífe’s cries were getting increasingly louder.

Stephen clambered out of bed, his limbs feeling heavy and somewhat disjointed as he trudged over to Aífe’s cot.

In contrast, his head was surprisingly clear and refreshed. He hoped Loki was feeling the same way.

It took him a few seconds to realise that Loki had not moved.

“Loki?”

Loki lay sleeping, his face slack and still, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Loki, stop fooling around.”

_“Stephen.”_

_“Loki?”_ Stephen frowned. _“What’s the matter?”_

_“Stephen…”_

Stephen’s heart began to thunder in his chest. Loki sounded frightened.

_“Loki, why aren’t you back inside?”_

_“I…can’t.”_

“What do you mean you can’t?” Stephen demanded in his true voice, louder than he intended; Aífe began to wail –

 _“Stephen, I can’t.”_ True fear rang in Loki’s voice. _“I think I’m trapped in this form – ”_

Loki began to breathe harder, faster – Stephen could hear him pant in his head.

_“Help me.”_

A desperate cry -

_“Stephen!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I was stuck in transit at the airport between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. so do forgive any deviation from my usual style of writing, it was clearly the deathly fear of accidentally going to sleep and missing my flight that was to blame.
> 
> I understand I am taking a lot of liberties with this one and this installment might not be everyone's cup of tea but exploring themes that I don't see very often in the fandom, and certainly not with this pairing, is my pet project and I shall continue to do so to my heart's content. 
> 
> For fear of showing my age, the 'Ditto' and 'the pottery' reference is from Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore's Ghost. (Clas-sic.) 
> 
> I think I need to go to bed now.
> 
> Kisses and hugs! - L.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There could have been five already.

_Lalung-La Pass, Tibet. Fifteen months ago._

 

It marked the end of a three-week pilgrimage into the sacred heart of Tibet, a trip of a lifetime Stephen Strange had been looking forward to ever since he inherited the title of Sorcerer Supreme from his late predecessor.

At some sixteen thousand five hundred-ish feet above the sea level, he was now standing on the highest peak on the Friendship Highway across the Tibetan Plateau, close to the Tibetan-Nepali border.

In the distance, the snow-capped Himalayan mountain ranges fought dominance over the landscape that boasted vast grasslands and lush meadows; it was simply one of the most spectacular sights Stephen had ever seen.

“Rinpoche.” He bowed reverently to the Lama, his spiritual guide throughout the journey, imparting invaluable lessons of wisdom as they traveled from one holy place to another in companionable mentorship.

“Master Strange.”

“Have you found what you came here for?”

“I believe so, Rinpoche.”

The Lama placed a gentle hand at the center of Stephen’s forehead. “You…are a strong one.”

“Yet there is still a great fear that resides in you.”

Stephen was silent. The Ancient One had called him out on it once. He had no doubt this great Guru had discerned it as well the very moment he laid eyes on him.

The Ancient One had mentioned Lama Saurav Rinpoche in passing once.  Knowing his predecessor, whatever name-dropping she did, especially if it was one done out of the blue, was never without a purpose.

Hence, seeking the revered Tibetan Buddhist Master was among the first things Stephen had done when he first became Sorcerer Supreme but it was to no success…until a month ago when the Lama reached out to him with an invitation to join his Sangha.  

“Restraint is admirable, but in the face of adversary, it can be the determinant between life and death.”

“As you should not fear death nor life, you should strive to escape all these bonds that bind you.” The Lama’s calloused palm was warm and rough against his skin.

Stephen inhaled deeply.

The Great Lama was right. The Ancient One was right. Everyone was right about the one thing that was holding him back from greatness.

He had never been able to conquer his fear of failure, not entirely. He doubted if he could, or ever would.

“Release yourself of all worldly desires, my son, for it is what is holding you back from discovering yourself.”

The colourful Tibetan prayers flags flapped in the wind as the cold mountain air blew around them like a tempest.

“Release yourself of all acquisition and you shall release your true potential.”

The Lama chanted a mantra under his breath, low and humming, and blew into his eyes –

“Thank you, Rinpoche.”

_____________________________________

_New Asgard. Present Time_

_“I take it back. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”_

“Stay calm, my dear.”

_It’s just a glitch._

He knew of a handful of reasons why the astral form may fail to return to its flesh but had only ever witnessed it once. The image of Karl Mordo’s lifeless form attached to the life support machine flashed through his mind’s eye, and Stephen forcefully pushed it back into the deepest recess of his mind.

_It must be a glitch._

“Don’t disappear on me, Loki.”

 _“I’ll try,”_  Loki’s near-hysterical laugh crackled across the connection

In a flash, he teleported Aife to the nursery and spotted her governess who was thankfully still around – “Erla! Oh good, you’re still here.”

“Highness? Is everything alright?”

He ignored her question.

“Here, take her.” He handed his squalling baby over to the royal nanny, at whose marvelous touch, Aífe immediately quietened. “Can you look after her for a while? There is a pressing matter I need to attend to.”

“O-Of course – ”

He did not wait for her answer before he teleported once again to their bedroom.

“Loki? You still here?”

_“This must be what The Further feels like.”_

Despite Loki’s nonsensical answer, Stephen could not help feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. “Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He checked on Loki’s body, still warm and breathing, albeit shallowly –

Stephen propelled himself out of his body.

He found Loki’s astral form sitting on the balcony, and looking somewhat shell-shocked.

Stephen flew over and gathered his husband in a tight embrace.

“We’re sticking to feel-good family movies from now on, Strange,” Loki mumbled into his chest.

He remembered all too well the conversation he had had with The Ancient One before she passed on.  _Time is relative,_  she had said.

There was still time then, if Loki was still up to engaging in light-hearted conversation. Or alternatively, he had given in to his panic entirely and fallen into a dissociative state, a frightening enough thought it compelled Stephen to steal a second to try and kiss it away.

Loki’s lips no longer felt as warm as they had been just minutes ago.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not quite…together, actually.” Loki blinked. “Rather strange, in fact.”

“In what way?” Stephen searched his face anxiously.

“I think I know why I can’t return.” Loki’s face, ruddy and flushed just moments ago, was now ashen.

“Yes?” Stephen urged impatiently when Loki took an unnecessarily long time to follow through with his declaration. Loki’s lips worked soundlessly, trying to form words that did not seem to be forthcoming.

Stephen palmed the side of his face to try to bring him around. “Loki?”

Loki’s icy fingers pried Stephen’s hand off his cheek and slid it slowly down his front. It came to rest against his lower abdomen.

“That’s not…possible,” Stephen breathed out, staring at his husband’s paper-white face in utter bewilderment.

Loki could barely speak. “Uh-uh.”

“Loki, what –  _how?”_

“I just…wanted to have…sex,” Loki’s staccato speech was punctuated by abrupt pauses for breath after panicky breath. “With my – ” he choked back a hysterical sob, “husband.”

Realisation finally dawned on Stephen as he relived the last few moments of their coupling, the unusually passionate, almost desperate way Loki seemed to clamour for sexual release – and Stephen answered his mating call like a lamb led to the slaughter.

He swallowed hard. “I think we did more than that.”

Loki moaned.

Stephen slipped his astral fingers right into Loki’s navel past the many layers of his abdominal muscles and lit up his husband’s insides.

He stared, stupefied, unable to believe his eyes.

Loki forgot to get angry at the bold intrusion upon his person, and looked down in awe at the glowing ball of foreign energy nestled deep within his pelvic cavity.

“Fascinating…but  _how?”_ Stephen murmured, clearly still out of it, and it irked Loki to no end. Stephen was supposed to be the authority on these things, was he not?

Incensed, he grabbed Stephen’s wrist and wrenched his husband’s hand free off his belly.

“Anytime today, Strange,” Loki growled. “We’re not exactly racing against time here, are we?”

Stephen was silent, his expression unreadable.

“Well?” He snapped. “What do you suggest we do now?”

“You know what we have to do.”

Loki reared his head. He stared his husband down the line of his nose.

A flat, “No.”

Loki took a few steps back. “No. I won’t.”

“We can’t keep it, Loki.”

“I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you?” Loki barked a crazy laugh. “You said I couldn’t get pregnant.” He stabbed a ghostly hand in Stephen’s chest, “Well, here we are! Right where we freaking started.”

“You can’t carry the pregnancy in astral form. It is not possible.”

“ _Of course_  it is! You just – you just have to keep my body alive, right?” Loki implored. “And not for very long either, since time passes so much slower in the real world, just long enough for the baby –”

“There is no baby, Loki.”

“Of course there is!” Loki said vehemently. “You saw!”

“It has no physical form, Loki. That is why your body could not accept you, not when your astral form’s been altered. It simply cannot cater for another being when there is no physical platform for it to converge on!”

“It’s not an  _it_ , Stephen!”

He should have known. Even with the barrier of flesh between them, Loki’s seidr and Stephen’s magic had never once stopped seeking one another, despite being the total opposite of each other. They were the very magnet that brought them together in the first place.

Loki was a fool to think that the Astral Dimension was a safe place. On the contrary, without the physical barriers between them, their union was all the more predisposed to breed a new life, a new _soul_  –

“Is there anything that you can’t do now, Sorcerer Supreme?” He asked bitterly.

There was nothing wrong with Loki’s seidr. It was only his body, betraying him time and time again.

“Loki, please. There isn’t much time left. You need to return to your body.” Stephen was becoming more and more desperate by the minute.

He fought down the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him at the sight of Loki’s glazed eyes; this was not the time for Loki to lose himself to madness – not now, when all that stood between him and death was the fast-ticking clock.

_“Darling.”_

Stephen held out his hand.

_“My sweet, gentle Loki.”_

Loki stood stock-still, eyes bright with unshed tears, hands clasped protectively over his lower stomach.

_“Don’t make me do this, Stephen.”_

_“We have no choice, Loki.”_

Tears began to roll silently down Loki’s face.

 _“You know this.”_  Stephen took a careful step toward him. _“Deep down.”_

_“I can’t.”_

Stephen’s throat went dry, despite not actually saying the words –  _“You can’t stay in the Astral Dimension. It is not a place for the living.”_

_“It isn’t, is it.”_

Stephen shook his head in horror. _“Loki…”_

“ _Think of Stian. Think of Aife,”_ he begged.

Loki buried his face in his hands and moaned desperately.

Stephen seized the chance; he closed in the last few steps and soon held Loki in an embrace so tight there was no chance Loki could slip away, not without a fight.

He dragged him to their bed and laid Loki down, in the space right between their unconscious physical bodies.

Loki’s face was still buried in his hands, his shoulders hitching with silent sobs.

Stephen wrapped his hands around Loki’s wrists.

He had seen plenty of bizarre things in his lifetime, but this had to be right up there. Why was it that he had to learn these things the hard way? Stephen was definitely going to write down a manual of some sort so that when the time came, his successor would not find himself at the end of his tether every other day for want of some freaking guidance!

“Darling,” Stephen called in a hushed voice, running his thumbs up and down the border of Loki’s anatomical snuffbox at each bony wrist.

A very quiet, _“Hmm?”_

Stephen released his wrists. He laid a hand on Loki’s stomach where he felt the core of new energy pulsate the strongest.

No. He was not going to curse The Ancient One for dying on him before he was fully ready.

_No one ever is._

She’d said that, hadn’t she?

 _“Are you ready?”_ he asked very gently.

It took him an eternity but finally, Loki gave a short, curt nod.

_I’m sorry, Loki._

Clearing his mind of all thought, Stephen called on his magic and his hand began to warm. He paid no heed to the twisting pain in his heart, he must not think of it, must not think of it that way

_I’m trying to save Loki’s life. That is all there is to it._

The words to the spell came frighteningly easy to him, and a sinking feeling in his stomach reminded him of the reason why – he had nearly uttered the same spell when Aífe, then yet unnamed, was draining Loki’s life force slowly but surely, killing him slowly but surely.

Stephen had been convinced that ending her life was the only way to save Loki’s. Stian, their magical little boy, barely five years old then, had proven him wrong.

_Am I wrong this time around too?_

The spell flared to life under his hand and found the foreign magic that had latched onto Loki, but despite his express command, his magic stirred aimlessly, doing absolutely nothing.

Stephen tried again, but still the ball of light clung stubbornly to Loki. “It’s not working.”

Loki’s face was pale, his eyes squeezed shut. A pain, far worse than any physical kind, had hardened his delicate features into a tight mask of heavy reluctance and silent defiance.

“It won’t work if one party is unwilling, Loki!” Stephen snapped. “You’re not letting it go.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder!” The panic that he had successfully repressed earlier reared its monstrous head again.

“Stephen, you need to go.”

Stephen’s eyes hardened. “If you don’t come back with me, I’m staying here with you.”

“But our children – ” Loki’s eyes flew open and his breaths hitched in his chest, “You need to go back!”

“Not without  _you_.”

Dimly, Loki could feel the walls of his mind closing in, collapsing unto itself –

He could not die like this. Not like this.

 _“Drink.”_  Frigga’s voice suddenly ricocheted the crumpling corners of his mind, and he froze.

“Mother?” Loki struck Stephen’s hand away and bolted upright.

_“Drink.”_

At the sound of her voice, echoing not once, but twice in his head…it was then he understood.

The meaning behind those dreams.

Clairvoyance had never been Loki’s strong suit, not at all. He was in no way near the same league as The Ancient One, or Stephen even. His Mother, Frigga, was more gifted in such art of divination. But Loki had never envied her, not really.

He quite liked living in the present, liked it too much to really care about what lay in wait for him in his future. That did not stop Frigga from worrying incessantly about him, of course.

“Oh, Mother,” he whispered and wept silently.

“Who was that?” Stephen asked dimly.

Loki stilled. “You heard it too?”

Drained of all colour, Stephen nodded slowly.

Loki’s hands rose and grabbed hold of the sides of Stephen’s face. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes as he coaxed Stephen’s mind to allow the images to flow in without hindrance.

“What I am sending you now are instructions on how to access my pocket universe.” Loki opened his eyes. He stared at Stephen’s eyes tracking left and right underneath his closed eyelids, his forehead lined into a thousand creases.

“Do you still have the corsage I gave you to wear on our wedding day?” he asked softly.

Stephen nodded, his forehead knocking into Loki’s as he concentrated, sequestering the images Loki was still sending into compartments in his head for easier future recall – “Of course.”

“Read it again, until you see me with her. The Suns will be bright, too bright.” Loki drew in a ragged breath. “You won’t miss them.”

Stephen frowned, not understanding.

“She will offer me something to drink, something that I will refuse.”

“I need you to get it for me. It is hidden.” Loki’s thumbs traced light circles over Stephen’s temples. “Once you have opened my pocket dimension, hold the image in your head and call on it. My magic will lead you to it.”

“Tip two sips into my mouth, Strange.” Loki’s voice broke, and Stephen could not for the life of him begin to understand why – “No more, no less.”

Loki kissed him once and hard. “Hurry.”

____________________________________

He found it in less than ten seconds, stowed away in the back farthest corner of their dressing table drawer, right next to his old sling ring, no longer in use now that his wedding ring doubled as his sling ring. It gleamed in the moonlight, its lustrous green reminiscent of Loki’s eyes, and Stephen felt a pang of fear.

Loki had been silent ever since Stephen returned to his physical body.

No time to waste –

The corsage felt featherlight in his palm but the weight of it trebled the moment Stephen breathed his magic into it.

Asgard was beautiful, its golden domes and minarets rose above glittering promenades and sprawling mansions, a spectacle of lavish wealth and decadence. Its twin suns shone bright against the bluest sky Stephen had ever seen.

This was Asgard. Loki’s once-kingdom.

Queen Frigga was the epitome of elegance and regal beauty. Even in the shadows her golden hair gleamed, shining brighter and brighter as she stepped closer into the light to join her son, who was standing tall and equally resplendent on the glass-encased balcony.

She placed a hand on the small of his back. As if startled, Loki turned his head sharply. His eyes softened immediately and he leaned down to accept a kiss on the cheek.

She held out a small wine glass filled with a dark amber liquid. Loki shook his head.

Stephen read his lips, “Thank you kindly, Mother, but no.”

His mother-in-law gave an elegant little shrug, and made her way once more to the small, round marble-top table.

Frigga raised her head and caught Stephen’s eyes for a fraction of a second, and his heart leapt to his throat –

Her bejeweled fingers slid the bottle silently across the marble into the pane of sunlight hitting the eastward-facing half of the table.

 _A Pedro Domecq Sibarita Amontillado,_  Stephen read.  _A vintage 1792._

Their eyes met again. Stephen nodded.

And the vision ended.

Stephen hastily dropped to his knees next to the empty shell that once housed his husband.

He grabbed Loki’s cold fingers in one hand, while his other started tracing runes in the air like Loki had taught him. He closed his eyes and concentrated, conjuring the clearest image of the wine bottle in his mind’s eye as he could.

His fingers danced in the air as he sieved through the myriad of objects in Loki’s pocket dimension. He did not even have names for most of these objects, but he cared naught for any of them; he did not have permission to peruse them, not even his subconscious would remember any of these objects later, save for one –

Stephen’s fingers closed around the neck of the bottle, and the moment he pulled it out, Loki’s pocket universe collapsed on itself.

Stephen opened his eyes with bated breath – and he heaved a sigh of relief.

_“I’ve got it, Loki.”_

Loki did not answer.

 _“Loki?”_  His heart began to pound like a mad horse in his chest.

 _“Hurry, Stephen.”_  His husband’s voice came across the connection weak and thready.

Loki was fading.

With lightning speed, Stephen conjured a glass and uncorked the bottle; as he poured some of the golden liquid out into the glass, he recoiled at the pungent, aldehydic, oaky aroma – this was no ordinary liquor.

By the time Stephen had an arm snaked under Loki’s shoulders and lifted his upper body up, his sentient magic had elucidated the hidden miracle of the elixir - 

Frigga’s magic had imbued the liquor with a purgative, turning it into the most potent evacuant Stephen had ever come across.

Stephen held the glass carefully to Loki’s bluish lips and tipped it once, waited over the course of a heartbeat, and tipped it once again. Two sips, just as Loki instructed – and Stephen waited with bated breath.

The Norse Goddess Frigga, renowned for her powerful arts of seidr, drank it every morning to keep her body pure, rid it of all impurities and foreign magic that meant her harm. The silent plea in her eyes conveyed but her one true wish, that Loki would imbibe with her, for she had only ever wanted to protect her son, nothing more.

 _“Thank you.”_  A woman’s voice resounded in his mind. Stephen’s heart skipped a beat.

It was the same voice he had heard earlier.

Stephen felt Loki stir in his arms, and all breath left his chest in a sudden whoosh. He allowed himself to smile.

“Loki.” 

Loki opened his eyes.

Stephen’s shaking hand was warm against the icy skin of his forehead. “How do you feel?”

Loki’s hand searched his abdomen where he had felt the pulses of energy, right until the point Stephen tipped the drink into his mouth and it burned down his throat and into his gut.

Now they were gone, obliterated, just like in his dream –

“Empty.” He felt empty.

“We had to let it go, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes welled.

“ _Them,”_  he whispered.

“What?” How Stephen could have misheard, Loki would never know. He must have done it on purpose.  

_The two suns of Asgard._

“Twins.” Tears were running down his face now, fast and hot. “A boy and a girl.”

“We could have had twins, Stephen.”

Loki wrested himself out of his husband’s embrace, turned onto his side, and cried

He cried alone and he cried silently for he knew no one could ever come close to understanding how he felt.

How could it make any sense to anyone, that he could love something that only ever existed for mere minutes? To feel the loss so deeply it felt as if someone had taken a knife to his heart and sliced it little by little until there was nothing left but a gaping hole in his chest, as hollow and as dark as the one in his now empty womb?

Loki cried himself to sleep. But not before he wished to never dream of Asgard or his Mother again.


	5. A Great Divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alien shows up in New York and Tony dumps him in Stephen's care. 
> 
> Stephen and Loki try so hard to heal but there's only so much pretending to act normal can do to help the recovery process.

_Metro-General Hospital, Present Time_

 

“You look displeased.”

“That’s one word for it,” she muttered.

“I’ve referred you to Urology as per your request. Doctor Gaudoin says he can see you anytime this afternoon at his clinic. He’s expecting you.”

Stephen groaned. “Of all the urologists you could have referred me to…”

“Stephen. Do you honestly believe there is anybody left in this hospital you did not have at least one altercation with when you were practising here?”

“Yes.” Stephen’s voice rose in pitch, indignation evident in the way his nose flared. “I know a few.”

“Name one.”

Stephen took way too long to answer.

“The lady at the cafeteria.”

“Nice try.” Christine managed a tight smile. “Look, I know it is not my place, but since we are both adults and married and have a long, not entirely painless history together, I might be the only person in the world burdened with the moral responsibility to say this –”

Christine hesitated, but only momentarily. The look of determination on her face was one Stephen had seen many times before.

She was going to say her piece, whether he liked it or not. He had expected as much. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I told you. I need a permanent form of contraception.”

“No, not that. I know the reasons why you’re hell-bent on doing this.” Her voice had gone soft with empathy. “I just can’t agree with the how.”

Christine tapped the butt of her pen on her desk in rapid succession. She appeared to become increasingly antsy. “This should be a joint decision, you know that.”

“What makes you think Loki doesn’t know?”

Her pen stopped.

Christine stared at him with eyes deader than a doornail. “You know what can read minds better than a Master of the Magic Arts?”

“It’s _Mystic_ –”

“A woman.”

“I keep hurting him, Christine.” Stephen rubbed a hand across his forehead where a tension headache was fast developing – “I thought turning ghost would do the trick, but it ended up hurting him anyway.”  

“It will hurt him a hell of a lot more once he finds out what you’re about to do.”

“He cannot find out about this.”

“Stephen…”

“I mean it, Christine.”

She was about to say something when a sudden, shrill cry caught her attention.

“Aunt Christine! Look what I’ve made for Emma!” A ball of running and talking energy emerged from the small sitting room next door. Trailing after him was a little girl who was the spitting image of Christine, whose adulating eyes shone as they followed Stian wherever he went.

Stephen smiled a little. Stian seemed to have ensnared another admirer. That should cheer Loki up a bit.

“That’s a very lovely drawing, Stian!” Christine gushed. Stephen craned his neck to see –

Stian had drawn three four-legged somethings, flanking two humanoid things, with another baby humanoid thing sitting on the ground on a checkered mat.

“Are these all your ponies?” She wrapped an arm around her godson’s shoulder, and the other around her own daughter. “It’s nice of you to let Emma ride one. And look, you’ve got Aífe all dressed up for a picnic!”

Stephen’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. How in the world-?

Stian beamed. He loved it whenever people guessed it right the first time, which unfortunately did not happen very often. “Daddy, please bring me with you the next time you come visit Aunt Christine.”

“Yes, please do.” Christine glared at Stian’s father evilly. “Your Daddy promised me he would bring you over all the time.”

“Oh my, would you _look_ at the time.” Stephen shot to his feet. “Come on, Stian. Kiss your Aunt Christine goodbye. She needs to get back to work.”

“Nope, no work today. I’ve cancelled my OT this afternoon, the babysitter’s called in sick.” Christine grinned. “You can stay as long as you like, Stian.”

“Yay!”

“Christine…”

She gave him a look. “Dr Gaudoin’s office, down the hall, to the left. Second door on your right.”

“Would you like some ice-cream? I’m sure your Daddy can get us some.” Christine shooed him away.

“Yay, ice-cream!”

_____________________________________

_Sanctum Sanctorum, New York_

 

“Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get hold of you?”

“No need to shout, darling.” Stephen held the phone a good two inches away from his ear. “My selective hearing only tunes you out on weekends. And public holidays.”

“We have a situation, Doctor.”

“We?” He muttered.

“Fury’s on my ass, says he knows the guy back from the 70’s. Apparently he’s an alien from another planet who conspired with an alien army that once attempted to blast the Earth into oblivion, but of course, Fury can’t say much because it’s classified bla bla _bla_ –”

“I’m not seeing the ‘we’ part here, Stark.”

“Fury would love nothing but to throw his ass in SHIELD’s most secure prison.”

“If the guy really did try to bomb us out of the orbit, sounds like he should be in one.”

“That’s the thing. This guy, name’s Yon something or other, he claims to have been in exile for the last forty years and is now on the run from the Kree Empire who’s hunting him down for some reason. And now he is seeking asylum on our planet.”

“Still not seeing the ‘we’, Tony.”

“Fury wants to know if he’s the real deal or just bluffing.”

“And why me?”

“You’ve kinda become the go-to rehab guy for working with reformed supervillains. You fix them and then you marry them. Very impressive, I must say.”

Tony did not let the ensuing stony silence deter him. “Wanna add another case study under your belt?”

“Do I have a choice?”

A reluctant, “Yes.”

“Then the answer is no.”

“Um, see that’s…going to be a problem.”

“Spit it out, Stark.”

“I…don’t want to see him shipped off to The Raft.”

You’ve shipped your friends there for much less, Stephen thought darkly. Almost instantaneously he caught himself, and shook his head. He must not let all this negativity get to him. It was bad enough Loki had barely spoken a word to him beyond what was strictly necessary these past two days, ever since their disastrous excursion into the Astral Dimension.

“Any compelling reason why? It isn’t like you to develop a sudden compassion for alien beings that may or may not pose a threat to our world.”

“Yeah, I suppose I’m kinda stepping on your toes in that territory, huh.”

Stephen kept silent. They listened to each other breathe, and when it was beginning to get really uncomfortable –

“I owe him, alright?” Tony said testily. “He saved the kid.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” Stephen deadpanned. Then he frowned. “You’re talking about your daughter?”

“No, not Morgan!” He could imagine Tony waving his hand crazily in the air in exasperation. “The kid! The Spiderman!”

“Oh.”

“This bounty hunter from outer space managed to track this alien guy, when the stupid kid decided to interfere and he got caught in the crossfire. Damn near pulverised him when Yon came out of hiding and saved his ass.”

A bounty hunter from outer space and a may-or-may-not-be-evil alien. In Queens.

He had a suspicious feeling he was going to regret this, sooner or later.

Stephen inhaled deeply. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Give him shelter for a few days? Until I figure out what to say to get Fury to back down?” Tony muttered under his breath. “If you’re particularly worried, you’ve got your Mirror World, lock him up in there, I don’t care. As long as you feed him. Who knows what he eats anyway.”

He could hear Tony drum his fingers against something, and it sounded suspiciously familiar.

“Right.” Stephen rolled his eyes. And sighed again. “You’re at my front door, aren’t you.”

“Took you long enough to figure that –”

And Tony found himself suddenly standing in the middle of The Sanctum’s Drawing Room. “- out.”

“Oh. Great. It’s not just you.”

“My apologies, Doctor. Please believe me when I say I would never use this kind of subterfuge to impose on you something that you are not comfortable with.” Captain Steve Rogers glared at the man in the suit next to him. “I’m afraid our friend Stark here has led me to believe you had a prior agreement with him to accept the asylum seeker for a preliminary risk assessment.”

“I’m sure he has.”

Stephen immediately locked eyes with the being standing behind Steve and Tony.

Piercing blue eyes. Hooded. Intelligent.

Spiky, dirty blond hair. Ageless, chiselled features.

“Looks human.”

“Packs a wallop.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You say that about _everybody_. Stop fishing for compliments, Rogers.”

“You said the Director came across him in the 70’s?” Stephen eyed his alien guest critically.

“Doesn’t look a day over thirty, does he?” Tony shrugged. “Come now, Doctor. Like that surprises you anymore.”

Tony was right of course. Loki was over fifteen hundred years old, and looked younger than Stephen on his good hair days. On most of his bad ones too, for that matter. Guess humankind really drew the short straw when it came to telomere length and cellular aging.

“Where is he wounded?”

Tony and Steve looked at each other.

“I can smell the blood.” Stephen frowned. “He didn’t tell you?”

“I…don’t think he speaks our language.” Steve sounded almost defensive, despite the uncertainty in his voice.

A highly-developed civilisation like The Kree Empire must have its own version of Allspeak. Stephen nodded to the vambrace-like thing on the alien’s arm. He had seen runes like the ones scrawling across the panel somewhere before. “Universal translator.”

“Is it?” Tony suddenly appeared very interested.

Stephen sighed again. It was going to be a long day. Between Asgard and New York, he no longer knew where he preferred to be right now. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I assume he has a name?”

“Yon-Rogg.” A soft voice spoke for itself. “My name is Yon-Rogg.”

Even his accent was similar to Loki’s.

_Told ya._

Steve looked somewhat sheepish.

“Strange? Didn’t know we had company.”

“Ah. Master Wong. You’re just in time.” Stephen’s eyes were still locked onto the sharp blue eyes. Ancient, all-knowing, with the promise of a thousand secrets. It felt a lot like looking into Loki’s eyes.

Suddenly he missed Loki. Missed him so terribly he knew it would cause him almost physical pain if he were to stay here a minute longer. He looked at the clock and knew why.

“Wong, if you could take our guest here to our spare room?” He shared a knowing look with his fellow Master. “The one with the mirrors? And if you could take a look at the wounds he’s hiding too?”

Wong stared at the shackles still clamping Yon-Rogg’s wrists together. “You got it.”

Stephen wordlessly beckoned the remaining two Avengers to follow him. He began to walk them down the stairs, heading for the front door. “I can’t promise anything, Stark, because there isn’t an ounce of magic on that guy, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah? When can I expect a progress report?”

“You and your never-ending reports.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I don’t work for you, Stark. I’ll do it in my own time.”

“Uh-uh. So when?”

“Tomorrow at the earliest. I need to get back to Asgard.”

Tony asked. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

Stephen waited until Steve was out the main door. “It’s…time for Loki’s EPO shot. He’s still got a few doses left.”

“Right.” Tony mentally slapped himself on the forehead. “Right, right.”

Stephen gave him a tight smile.

“Yeah. I heard about…you know.” Tony did the head-bobbing thing he always did whenever he had something uncomfortable to say that he needed to say anyway, as though he had an itch that would not go away otherwise.

His sympathetic look was genuine, however, as he laid a tentative hand on Stephen’s shoulder. He patted it somewhat awkwardly once, twice. “Sorry for your loss.”

Bruce must have told him. Perhaps Stark had not been lying when he said he had been trying to get in touch. “Thanks, Stark.”

“You and Loki okay?”

“We’re…getting there.”

“Well. Like I said before. If you ever need anything.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

_____________________________________

 

_New Asgard_

 

“How was your day?”

“It went.” Loki shrugged, and his oversized sweater slipped down one side, revealing his porcelain shoulder. “As expected, it has turned into night.”

“You up to watching a movie together?” Stephen traced Loki’s bare collarbone lightly. The puncture wound from the central feeding catheter had left an unsightly puckered scar, marring the otherwise flawless skin of Loki’s clavicle.

On the other hand, the scar from the neck surgery incision had faded over the years. Christine had done a marvellous job closing it up. The visible pulsation from Loki’s carotid artery enticed him somewhat, and Stephen could not resist – “Interview with the Vampire’s showing later.”

Loki shrugged again, just as indifferently. “Whatever you want.”

“Or Gattaca?” Stephen tried again, hoping he did not sound as earnest as he did to his own ears. “That’s next on our list too.”

“I don’t care,” Loki said softly.

Stian had finally gone to bed, way past his bedtime. Stephen had a suspicion Loki knew about the ice cream, what with the way Stian was bouncing off the walls, but thankfully he said nothing.

In fact, Loki had not said much of anything. As he held their daughter in his arms whom he had been staring at for the past fifteen minutes, Stephen could not help but wish Loki would just turn around and look at him and _smile_ –

“You feeling better?” Stephen reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Loki’s ear, feeling the warmth of his husband’s skin with the back of his hand, relieved to find no fever burning underneath his touch.

“I’m fine.” Loki’s thumb played with Aífe’s fontanelle as it gave way to the slightest pressure, with it still open and soft, so very soft – “Never better.”

 _Lie to me all you want_.

Stephen’s heart sank further.

_Just do it smiling._

He held his arms out. “I’ll tuck her in.”

Surprisingly, Loki obliged, and he readily relinquished their sleeping daughter into Stephen’s waiting arms. “Keep the bedroom door open, would you? We might not be able to hear her over the movie otherwise.”

Stephen nodded in acquiescence; his heart ten times lighter, his gait even more so as he carried Aífe to their room. At least, Loki was saying yes to movie night.

Stephen emerged minutes later only to find the opening credits already playing. Gattaca it was, then.

The Interview would have made for more erotic, sensuous viewing, but Stephen was grateful enough to be able to sit next to his husband without Loki pulling away, as he had done ever since –

_Ever since the twins._

Stephen closed his eyes.

How different things could have been had they not been in astral form that night.

He opened his eyes again to steal a glance at his husband who was sitting as still as a statue, his face as white as marble. The shadows underneath his eyes were nearly as dark as his hair.

He looked down at the pale hands Loki had clasped in his lap over the cashmere tartan throw covering their legs. Every so often Loki’s hands would ghost over his abdominal area as if guarding against some phantom pain, and Stephen’s heart twisted.

If they had not been in astral form, Loki would be pregnant now. He would have gone through some atrocious pain – would the pain have been doubled? Stephen shuddered at the thought – but at least…at least Loki would be smiling, once the pain was over.

They would both be smiling.

“At least his father didn’t leave him to die on a rock somewhere.” Loki’s pensively quiet voice pierced the uncomfortable silence halfway through the movie that Stephen was no longer watching.

“Hmm?”

“Vincent. The god child.” Loki’s eyes were unblinking and wide, so wide Stephen could watch the movie play across his pupils, as clear as crystal. “He was made out of love, genetically imperfect though he may be.”

Stephen’s jaw clenched. He said nothing.

Loki must have read the air, heavy despite the undercurrent of silent bitterness, masked as awkward silence.

“I don’t blame you, Stephen.” Ever the knight’s-move thinker, Loki was confident enough in Stephen’s ability to follow his train of thought.

Of course Stephen knew he was no longer talking about the movie.

Not when the movie was no longer playing in his eyes, now that Loki had turned to finally look at him.

“I asked for it. And I got it.” Loki’s green eyes swam with tears. “You were only trying to give me what I wanted.”

Stephen leaned in on autopilot to kiss his forehead.

Loki did not resist, not when he knew his next words were enough to make Stephen withdraw from him without Loki having to push him away.

“What happened in Tibet?”

“What?” Stephen’s eyes narrowed. He was beginning to find the loosening of association between Loki’s thoughts worrying.

“The night we made Aífe. You had just come back from your pilgrimage.” Loki’s flat tone was incongruent with the emotions dancing in his eyes. “That was when everything changed.”

Stephen shook his head slowly. “Nothing happened.” His eyes narrowed further - "What do you mean everything changed?"

“Did you make a bargain?”

“What are you asking me, Loki?” Stephen’s heart began to pound. “What bargain?”

“I don’t know. Hence why I am asking.” Loki’s eyes turned hard. “Aífe asked for longevity. What did you ask for?”

“Loki.”

“Did you ask for your hands back?” Loki pressed. “Strength? Power?”

“Power – ” Stephen frowned, torn between throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, and outright laughing, “Over what?”

“Over me?”

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound right now?”

Loki did not find it amusing at all. “Do I?” His voice was silky soft. “Am I?”

Stephen grabbed the side of his husband's face.

Loki’s hair hid the one half of his face he could not see anyway, for the dark shadows the bright television screen was casting across Loki’s sharp features.

“I would never do that to you,” Stephen said fiercely. “I love you.”

“Love,” Loki echoed. “You love me enough to break my seidr, as one would break a horse?”

Despite all his effort to keep his temper under control, Stephen was failing and he was failing miserably –

“What the _fuck_ are you saying?” he was seething now.

Loki stared back at him defiantly, daring him to prove him wrong –

“I don’t know how things are back in Asgard when people get married but here, we don’t turn it into some sort of power play drama when things hit a rough patch!” Stephen’s voice was rising. “It’s not a competition, Loki!”

“Isn’t it?” Loki used his index and middle fingers to push Stephen’s hand away from his face. “Isn’t it always? With you?”

Stephen leaned back against the couch, stunned. “Where is this coming from, Loki?”

“You won’t understand.” Loki shook his head.

“Then help me understand.” He sat himself upright again. “Help me, so I can help you.”

“At least be original, Strange.” Loki spat. “Quoting lines from a movie makes your sincerity highly doubtful.”

Loki was spewing poison but Stephen let it pass over him like water. He had to. One of them had to. They could not both be blinded by their tempers and emotions.

“Stop changing the damn subject.”

“Is there even a subject, Strange?” Loki asked sadly.

“You go to your friends. You seek solace at your Sanctum.” Despite his words, Loki did not sound accusatory. Only mournful, and not even in the self-pitying sense of the word.

“What about me?” He threw the question casually to the wind, daring anyone to answer. “Where do I go?”

“I am right here, Loki.”

“No, Strange. You’re not here.” Loki shook his head again. “You’re only almost.”

Loki hung his head low. “You wouldn’t acknowledge my loss. Not out loud. Not to me.”

“ _Our_ loss.”

“You have lost nothing, Doctor.” A tear fell onto his blanket-covered thigh. “What was the term you used? Chemical, was it? It’s all…merely potential energy and cells and clinical _data_ to you.”

Stephen buried his face in his hands. “You have to stop doing this, Loki. You have to stop torturing yourself.”

Loki only looked at Stephen’s dejected profile silently. “Do you know how I came to be adopted by The Allfather, Strange?”

Talk and talk. That was all Stephen wanted Loki to do these past few days, to _talk_.

So tonight Loki was going to give it to him, whether he liked it or not. “He found me in a temple. I know not if I was hidden in order to protect me, or if I was abandoned to die. But whatever the reason may be, it did not change the fact that I came into the world alone.”

 _Alone_.

“Upon discovering I was capable of childbearing, I swore to myself that I will never abandon my children, no matter their form.” It was all spilling out of him like water. “Astral, energy, anembryonic cluster of cells? They are all mine.”

“They are as real to me as Stian, as Aífe.”

Loki brought his knees to his chest. Camouflaged against the black leather of the sofa, he looked small, huddled in the corner like a child.

The sudden realisation that Stephen had not spoken for the past few minutes catalysed Loki’s return to awareness and he abruptly drew in a ragged, desperate breath.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I’m in a dark place right now. I can’t – ”

A pale hand rose to palm his forehead. “I can’t seem to think straight. Not at all.”

“I’m here.” Stephen’s shaking hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face, and effectively his eyes, gently.

“I’m always here, can’t you see?”

Loki retrieved his wrist from Stephen’s grasp equally gently.

“Dark place, Strange. Can’t see worth shit.”

Stephen rose. He needed to move, needed to walk it off – he dragged his steps toward the kitchen as far out as he could, but still he reached his destination way sooner than he wanted. He poured himself a glass of water and drained it down in a single gulp.

The musical score playing from the speakers was hauntingly melancholic, heart-wrenchingly so.

He could listen to it no longer. He strode to the kitchen island where they kept the spare remote control and turned the television off.

Loki did not protest. He did not make a single sound.

Stephen walked over to the couch. His shadow loomed over Loki as hovered, close but not quite touching. Any closer the shadows would be darker. Loki had trouble seeing enough.

“At least tell me what you need.” Stephen murmured into the back of his head. “Please.”

Loki pulled away and buried his face in his knees, his raggedy hair falling to the sides like a curtain, masking what little of his profile Stephen could see. “I need to be alone.”

A white hand reached out, unseeing. It groped along the headrest slowly, seeking with a sense of certainty something that should be in its path –

Stephen wondered if it was him the long, tapered fingers were looking for. He gave it a try anyway, knowing he would never forgive himself if he did not.

The way Loki squeezed his hand told him he had done at least one thing right tonight. He savoured the touch for as long as he could, not knowing who would be the first to let go, only knowing it was definitely not going to be him.

He wanted to stay.

Their wedding rings gleamed in the dark.

 _Damn_ he wanted to stay.

But alas, their interlaced fingers did not stay entwined long; Loki pulled away, but not before he left in Stephen’s empty palm a heavy, golden key.

“The key to the spare room down the hall. I can’t have you sleeping outside anymore,” Loki whispered. “You will hurt your back.”

“It’s alright, Loki,” Stephen said softly. “I’ll be at The Sanctum if you need me.”

“It’s daylight now in New York. You’ll disrupt your sleep cycle.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Stephen wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his hurting husband and just hold him till the sun came up. “It’s you I am worried about.”

“You need to stop worrying about me, Stephen.” Loki said flatly. “Look where it got us.”

Stephen reared his head.

“You need to leave.” Loki’s eyes had begun to water again.

Stephen nodded briskly.

_“But come back in time for breakfast, would you? Stian will be looking for you.”_

Loki could no longer speak, his throat so clogged with tears.

“I will.”

_“I’m sorry, Stephen.”_

“No, Loki. _I’m_ sorry.”

Stephen gave the back of his head one last lingering look. “And I love you.”

When Loki did not answer, Stephen braced himself for the wave of devastation, and when it came, he let it run over him once again like water.

Like water, it shall pass.

_This will pass._

Loki’s silent sobs escaped the cushion he was stifling his face with.

_It must._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Loki discover just how lethal they are to each other.

_Sanctum Sanctorum, New York_

 

“Let’s start with the easy questions, shall we?” Stephen had them seated across each other in a room, bare except for the two armchairs they were sitting on. “What are you?”

“I am a Kree. I come from a planet called Hala.”

“You’re no ordinary Kree. What were you, a soldier? Someone higher up?” Stephen’s nose wrinkled in distaste. The alien was handsome, perhaps too handsome to be a commoner. “Royalty?”

“I was the Military Commander of an elite tactical team called Starforce.”

“Was?”

“I led a mission to Planet C-53 some forty of your years ago.”

“C-53?”

“Earth.” Yon-Rogg explained patiently, “I was tasked with retrieving one of us who had gone…rogue. I failed. And I was discharged from service soon after.”

“Dishonorably?”

“My powers have been stripped from me, Doctor. What do you think?”

Stephen shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with you.”

“Your friend mentioned the Mirror World. I assume that is a prison of some sort?” Yon-Rogg’s eyes roamed his surroundings knowingly.

Stephen said nothing.

“Am I in it right now?”

“Would you like to try and find out?”

Yon-Rogg’s forehead furrowed in mild confusion. “I am not looking to harm you, Doctor. I am not here to harm anyone.”

“Is that right?” Stephen asked softly. “I am not easily fooled, Commander. Now why don’t you do me a favour and tell me what your true purpose is for coming here.”

“I told you,” Yon-Rogg said, still very patiently. “I am on the run for my life.”

“Who are you running from?”

Tony Stark mentioned the Kree Empire but Stephen could not help but wonder if there was more to the story.

“If the Kree Empire wanted you dead, why has it taken them forty years to only start trying to kill you?” Stephen drummed his fingers on his armrest. “If your story’s straight, you’ve been court-martialled and discharged. What could they possibly want from you now?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Not one damn bit.” Stephen was becoming a bit bored now.

“The bounty hunter was the tell, really.” He stared into the depthless blue eyes. As expected, there was no emotion in them whatsoever. This alien could not care less what Stephen believed or did not believe. “From what I know of the Krees, they’d sooner storm after you, all guns-a-blazing and haul your ass back to Hala, than pay a mercenary to chase after you halfway across the galaxy.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t make human sense.”

Stephen crossed his legs and waited.

“Have you heard of the name Ronan the Accuser, Doctor?”

Stephen’s eyes were hard. Perhaps he had picked up a trick or two being married to the God of Lies. He could smell bullshit from a million light years away.

“Ronan the Accuser is dead,” he said softly. “Try again.”

Finally, Yon-Rogg smiled. “So what is your theory then, Doctor?”

“I think _you’re_ the mercenary.”

Yon-Rogg’s eyes brightened. “Now that’s very interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Stephen smiled.

“If that is true, then who is my intended target, Doctor?”

Now that they were both smiling, perhaps the game was just beginning.

“I don’t know yet,” Stephen said coolly. He rose to his feet.

“Stick around, Yon. Most of the stuff here’s magic and have very sharp teeth. Keep your hands to yourself and you might just keep them.”

_____________________________________________

_New Asgard, Present Time_

 

If there was one thing Thor hated about being a King was bureaucratic red tape and administrative paperwork.

His father Odin had been a genius at delegation, doing the least work while wielding the greatest authoritative decisive power over everything in his kingdom. Loki had always been the scholar, the one with the eagle eye for catching out misconducts in governance, accidental or deliberate, and Thor found himself missing his brother more and more with each passing day Loki was not around.

Cursing his brother’s absence would have taken some of the edge off but he could not bring himself to it. For none in the whole of Asgard, new or old, could fathom the depth of, and feel Loki’s loss as keenly as Thor.

Stephen, being Loki’s devoted husband, had taken Thor’s place; it was bittersweet, relinquishing his position as Loki’s protector (self-appointed though it may be) and it was with great reluctance that Thor had stood back and given them the space they needed.

Thor must have read the same line a hundred times and still could not make head nor tail of what it meant, or what it wanted of him.

Where was Loki when he needed him?

“Majesty.” A quiet voice startled Thor’s reverie.

_Speak of the devil and he doth appear –_

“Brother!” True to the promise he had made to himself, Thor had taken to hugging his brother freely and without care, sparing neither of them the embarrassment from such blatant display of affection. Loki took a step backward and wondered if he could make it to the door in time to escape before Thor could –

“Thor _– Oomf_!” No matter how he braced himself beforehand, Thor’s hugs seemed to be getting more and more painful with each passing century. One of these days, he was going to break something, Loki was sure of it.

“Thor, you’re crushing me.”

When Thor finally let him go, Loki studied his brother whom he had not seen in almost a week, ever since the night they had drunk together. Thor’s face was flushed, just as it had been that night, from emotions this time, rather than the heaty properties of strong alcohol. “I’m alright, Thor.”

“It was only last week that I caught sight of you sparring with the Valkyrie. Surely you can imagine my concern when I heard from Stephen that you have taken ill again.”

“I am alright now, Thor,” Loki repeated softly.

Thor did a great job imitating one of Loki’s trademark sniffs of contemptuous disbelief. “Your alright looks like Death herself.”

“Gee, thanks.” But Loki walked over to the great mirror behind Thor’s writing table anyway and scrutinised his reflection. He had looked better, but he had also definitely looked worse. “Well. Nothing a little sunlight won’t fix.”

“Seriously. What are you even doing out of bed?”

“Oh, I can’t pay my big brother a visit now?” Loki asked lightly.

“I was of the assumption you were under strict orders to recuperate in the comfort of your own bedroom. Does Stephen know you’re up and about, gallivanting around while still looking all thirty shades of dead?”

Loki shrugged. “He isn’t here.”

“Oh?” Thor looked up sharply.

Loki picked an invisible lint off his thigh.

“Is everything alright with you and Stephen?” Thor asked in the same light-hearted manner Loki had adopted earlier.

“What do you mean?” Loki murmured half-heartedly, as though he was not particularly interested in Thor’s answer one way or another.

“You are looking for a distraction.”

“I am the parent of a very entertaining six-year-old, and an angelic six-month-old. If I’m looking for a distraction, I’m looking in the wrong place.”

“I rephrase. You are looking for a distraction because whatever you are not telling me with your words, you are telling me with your eyes.”

Loki averted his traitorous eyes away.

“Come now, Brother.” Thor recapped his pen and pushed aside his wobbling stack of yet-to-be-perused, important-looking documents. “What is troubling you?”

Loki shook his head. He sank onto the daybed and leaned heavily against the windows. He looked out. It was a cloudy day in Asgard today. “I am just seeking companionship, Thor. Not necessarily someone to talk to.”

Thor stared at him for the longest time. Finally, he reached behind him for one of the fluffy decorative cushions lined up in a row on the Ottoman. He tossed it to Loki who caught it with one hand.

“Have a rest then, Brother, while you watch me proofread these documents. Which is technically your job anyway, as Hand of the King.”

Loki smiled. “Hand of the King.” He slumped sideways and gratefully sank his head into the cushion. “How very original,” he murmured.

He could not sleep in their bedroom.

He could not sleep with Stephen in it. He could not sleep without Stephen in it.

He closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he could sleep in here.

Loki let the tears slide silently. It was a useful colour too, the cushion. The tear stains would be adequately invisible against the black plush velvet.

It was a cloudy day in Asgard. But the familiar warmth of Thor’s aura made it not so bad.

His hearing tracked Thor’s heavy footfalls as the King made his way as silently as possible to the front door of his study. He heard Thor turn the lock with a soft click.

It could have been his imagination but he had already drifted off too far into sleep to bother opening his eyes when he felt a warm hand on his forehead; it was too comfortable to swat away. The rough fingers then made their way to his cheek and tentatively wiped the wetness away.

Loki allowed it, for it was just Thor.

He let out a little sigh.

Just sleep, he told himself, and perhaps tomorrow...tomorrow would be better. Perhaps tomorrow, all the yesterdays would turn out to be nothing but a bad dream. A dream and nothing more.

_______________________________________

_Sanctum Sanctorum, Way Back When._

_“Missed you at dinner.”_

“It’s lunchtime here.”

 _“Exactly.”_ Loki’s disembodied voice was as clear as day, but he was nowhere to be seen. His husband was a tease like that. Stephen was still undecided if he loved it a little, or loved it a lot. _“Good thing too, because guess what you’re having for lunch?”_

“Is it tall, dark and snarky?” Stephen rocked his chair back and propped both his legs on his table, crossing them at the ankles. “Because if it isn’t, I think I’ll pass.”

_“Close your eyes.”_

Stephen obeyed. Sure enough, for not more than a second later, he felt a familiar weight land in his lap. He savoured the kiss when it came, but after a few seconds he stilled. He opened his eyes and shoved Loki off him with a laugh. “Get away!”

Severus Snape swept off Stephen’s lap with a flourish of his black robes and a cackle.

“Thought you wanted tall, dark and snarky.”

“Let me rephrase. Tall, dark, snarky…and recently-wedded to me.”

“I assume that’s me?” Snape disappeared with a dramatic poof. A familiar form leaned against the wall, still clad in black, but much more savoury to the palate.

“There he is.” Stephen’s eyes softened at the sight of his husband.

“The importance of being specific, Strange.” The real Loki draped himself once again in Stephen’s lap. His tone was light, but his words and eyes were serious. “Be careful what you wish for.”

He lifted an elegant finger. “Equally importantly, what you don’t wish for.”

“Duly noted, darling.”

One could tell a lot from the way Loki kissed, if one was lucky enough to be chosen. If he was being playful, his kisses were more teasing, goading. If he was angry but not angry enough to decline a kiss, they were hard, rough, contradictorily so.

But his kisses on this particular day were soft, melancholic. Yearning.

Loki missed him, but did not have the heart to say it.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Stephen mumbled in between kisses. “Shouldn’t take long, I promise.”

“Shh.” Loki raked his hair out of the way when it caught between their lips. It was getting long again. “Work is work.”

“Lunch is lunch.” He resumed his lunch lady duty by offering his lips again, which Stephen gladly partook with gusto.

“Wanna take a guess what I’m wishing for right now?” Stephen ran a hand up and down Loki’s back.

“Go straight for dessert?”

“Straight for dessert.” With a sudden burst of strength, Stephen hoisted Loki up by the waist, and in a split second, had him flat on his back atop a bed in one of The Sanctum’s many rooms, effectively knocking the breath out of the raven-haired prince.

“Who needs the Tesseract when I can have you?” He breathlessly laughed as he clung to Stephen’s neck like a lifeline.

“What a strange thing to say,” Stephen murmured as he nibbled away at Loki’s neck, starting at the base of his throat, all the way up to under his chin. “But coming from you? That’s one heck of a compliment.”

Loki lifted a hand but Stephen caught it in mid-air. “No magic.”

“It’s going to take hours…” Loki moaned. But he lifted his hips anyway to help Strange unbuckle his strap upon strap of leather armour, starting with the belt around his waist.

“Shh. Patience.” Stephen muzzled him with a kiss.

“Careful,” he cautioned as Stephen slid his hands down the sides of his thighs to tug his leggings free. “There should be a dagger or two hidden somewhere down there.”

Stephen distracted the impatient Loki with strategic kisses placed wherever a piece of leather happened to be removed successfully. When Loki was finally in his undershirt, Stephen looked up with a triumphant smile on his face.

“That’s how we Midgardians do it.”

Loki looked at him coolly. “I commend you for your effort.”

Stephen slid his head underneath the soft cashmere of Loki’s undershirt and started to kiss his belly, and that brought out a laughter at last – “No, stop! That tickles!”

Stephen pulled his head out, his usually perfect hair a dishevelled mess. He stared at Loki in wonder.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stephen smiled. “You have a beautiful laugh.”

Loki tipped his head and met his stare with a wondering gaze of his own. “I do, don’t I.”

He reached out a hand.

Stephen forgot all about his plan to tickle Loki to tears, and soon found himself lying on his side next to his husband.

“How did we get here?” Loki murmured.

“You mean specifically? Metaphorically? Chronologically?” Stephen teased. “I took the subway. What about you?”

The humour was lost on Loki. As they laced their fingers together, he studied the contrast of his white, blue-veined hand against the tan of Stephen’s calloused, scarred one.

 _“How_ curious,” he murmured.

Stephen’s stubbled jawline nuzzled roughly against his cheek. “Think any louder and you’ll wake the neighbours, Odinson.”

“I must be under some kind of spell,” Loki let out a breathy whisper – “How did I get from falling flat on my face on your atrium floor to falling head over heels in love with you?”

“Hmm. Could it be my dashing good looks?” Stephen said very seriously. “My magic hands? My human charms?”

Loki sniffed. “I’ve had plenty of those.”

“My DIY skills? My cooking? My singing?”

“That too.” _Wait._ “You can’t sing.”

Stephen laughed silently.

Loki joined him, feeling almost giddy with the sudden avalanche of emotions – what could he have possibly done to deserve this?

He studied Stephen’s profile. What indeed?

Stephen caught him staring. “I won you fair and square, Loki. No spells.”

“No spells?”

“No spells.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Loki rolled onto his side and lay his head on Stephen’s chest. He liked listening to human heartbeats. They were such precious commodity. “You still owe me an apology though.”

“What, for the portal thing?” Stephen’s chuckle rumbled through his chest like borborygmi. “Boy, Thor was right. You sure are grudgey.”

An indignant whine, “It really did hurt!”

“Physically, or your pride?”

“Neither obviates the outstanding apology owed me, Stephen.”

“Shall I show you how sorry I am?”

In the blink of an eye, Stephen was on top of him again, and Loki forgot all about pouting. In fact, he might forget about breathing too, what with Stephen looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world…

Loki was going to have so much fun this lifetime around.

“Abridged version or full-length?”

“How long have you got?” Stephen murmured against Loki’s lips, giving himself a head start.

“You forget, my lord husband, the night has fallen in Asgard and our son is safe asleep, till morrow we are contented –”

“Oh you haven’t _seen_ contented!” And Loki yelped as once again, Stephen dived straight for his sensitive neck, and once again, everywhere else.

_____________________________________________

_New Asgard. Present Time_

Loki opened his eyes and expected to see the high lofty ceiling of The Sanctum. When his sight adjusted to the light and landed on the fresco ceiling of Thor’s study instead, his heart sank.

How could it have been just a dream, when his neck still stung with the phantom heat of Stephen’s kisses?

_No spells._

He raised a hand to the level of his eye. His ring shone in the fast-disappearing sunlight.

It had once been enough, just the two of them.

Why had he said those terrible things to Stephen?

 _You know why_.

The voice inside his head sounded too much like his own for Loki to discard.

If he could not say his fears out loud, did he even have the right to think them?

_No spells, Loki._

Stephen had looked so kind, so earnest, so _pure_ when he uttered those words. And like a lovestruck fool, Loki believed him, with all his heart.

When did he start doubting?

A sudden cramp had Loki arch his back and claw his nails into the padded foam mattress underneath him for purchase. The pains still crept up on him from time to time; they were beginning to lessen in frequency and intensity but their stealth never failed to steal his breath.

As Loki fought to ride the clamping agony out, he marvelled at his body’s subliminal ability to always answer his questions, in the form of dreams, phantom pain, real pain…

When did he start doubting indeed?

Was it before or after Stephen cast the contraceptive spell without Loki’s knowledge?

Stephen had always been a fierce guardian of secrets and occult knowledge, as was his prerogative befitting his station of Sorcerer Supreme. Loki had never begrudged him that power before, was even secretly proud of him. He would not go as far as to say they were equals, simply because they were incommensurable.

What was that peculiar Midgardian saying again? Right. Apples and oranges.

Loki sighed in relief as the tail-ends of pain finally left him, and he could _breathe_ again.

What other secrets could Stephen be hiding? What other spells?

“Brother? Are you alright?” Thor must have caught the sound of his sighing. “Do you need a Healer?”

A dark, horrifying thought assaulted his mind.

Was it simply Loki’s years catching up on him? Had he been living all these years under the assumption that he would live as long as Odin?

He tilted his head to look at his brother. His Aesir foster brother.

As long as one of _them?_

Was it simply…aging?

Suddenly it all seemed to make sense now. His husband’s paranoia, his overprotectiveness, his obsession with keeping Loki out of harm’s way no matter the cost to himself, to their unborn children, to their relationship – all in the name of love. All to keep Loki from dying

Did Stephen know something Loki didn’t?

__________________________________

Loki returned home pleasantly surprised to find his son in the living room with his sketchbook spread out in front of him.

“Have you had your dinner, my love?”

“Yeah, I ate with Daddy.”

“Daddy was here?” Loki’s heart began to race.

“You just missed him, Pappa.” Stian looked up and smiled somewhat apologetically. “I told him you’d gone to see Uncle Thor.”

Loki sat down slowly at the kitchen counter. He was uncertain if the calmness that overtook him was one of relief or disappointment. It was probably the latter, judging by the sudden glumness befallen him.

“He made you something. He told me to tell you to eat it once you get back, and to make sure that you finish the whole thing.”

Loki lifted the platter covering the dish, and his sixth sense knew what he would find - his lips curled involuntarily into a wistful smile.

 _“For dinner?”_ Stephen critically asked him once when Loki requested it of him many moons ago.

It would never make sense to him. Midgardians were unnecessarily too hard on themselves sometimes. If one wanted to have cereal for dinner, or steak for breakfast, what was so wrong with that?

“Maybe later,” he said. Strange how he had yet to take a bite but the hollowness in the pit of his stomach seemed to fill, little by little, at the sight of his favourite Eggs Benedict.

“He said, ‘Please’, Pappa.” Stian had been tasked with an important duty and he took pride in it. “You said when you want something you should always say please, so Daddy must really want you to eat.”

Loki could not resist walking over to his son and hugging him from behind. “Look at you. All big and grown up.”

“I’m six years old, Pappa.” Stian announced proudly.

“Yes you are, darling.” What happened to the sweet, round-cheeked baby boy, so tiny Thor could fit him in his helmet? “You’ve decided what you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be everything, Pappa.” Satisfied that Loki was starting to pick slowly at his dinner, Stian went back to his latest arts project. “I want to be smart and magic like you and Daddy. I want to be strong and big like Uncle Thor."

"But sometimes I also want to be like Aunt Christine.”

Interesting. Loki had not expected that. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Aunt Christine’s really nice,” Stian said adoringly. “She has nice, shiny machines in her office that can look into people’s bodies and stuff. They are really something.”

“You’ve…been to see Aunt Christine?”

“Yeah. Daddy’s been taking me to see her.”

Loki looked up sharply. He brought his plate around and walked over to where Stian was lying on his belly on the carpet. “He has?”

“Yeah.”

“When was this?”

“Last week? And yesterday too. I played with Emma while she and Daddy were talking. I drew a really nice picture, and Aunt Christine gave me ice cream.”

Loki paid closer attention to what Stian was drawing. He frowned. “Is that – what are you drawing, Stian?”

“I’m not sure, Pappa. The other doctor had this on his wall. I thought it looked pretty.”

There was no mistaking it. Loki had seen enough disembowelment on countless battlefields to recognise the double structures Stian had drawn: it was a picture of two human kidneys juxtaposed across each other.

Loki’s heart began to pound. “What other doctor?”

“The other doctor Daddy’s been seeing.”

____________________________________

“As we’ve discussed, it’s a fairly straightforward procedure, done under local anaesthesia. For a fit and healthy guy like yourself, I’m not expecting complications but of course, you never know. ”

“Don’t worry Marco, I’ve read the information booklet.”

“So you know the risks, and to watch out for complications, what you have to do as part of post-surgical care?”

“Yep.”

“Excellent. You make my job so much easier.” The elderly doctor could not help the snark from creeping into his voice. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

But his next words were not spoken unkindly. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Alone, as you’ve been the last two times you’ve been to see me.” A beat. “For all intents and purposes, it is irreversible, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I do not want you to regret it down the line,” Dr Gaudoin said gently. “I’d be much more comfortable doing this knowing that your wife is on board.”

Stephen chose not to rise to the bait. After all, the good doctor had nothing but the best of intentions at heart.

He held out a hand. “Is that the consent form, Doctor?”

With a sigh, the urologist handed it over and watched as Stephen flipped through the documents right till the very end and signed his name on the dotted lines slowly.

“I’ll get the things ready and my nurse will come in a short while to escort you to the procedure room.”

Stephen crossed his arms and rubbed his exposed biceps absently. The open-backed hospital gown was thin and did little to ward off the sudden chill. He nodded his silent thanks, and stared into the distance, looking for something he could focus on, something to stop him thinking about what he was about to do.

There was a poster on prostate carcinoma on the wall next to the door. He focused on that. It disappeared momentarily out of sight as Dr Gaudoin opened the door to leave, but it did not reappear as expected when Dr Gaudoin closed the door behind him, for there was a figure standing in front of it that had not been there seconds before.

Stephen’s blood ran cold.

“Loki.”

Loki was dressed in a black blazer over a white T-shirt and jeans. It was the most casual Midgardian get-up Stephen had ever seen him in. Loki had not even bothered with a glamour, the stark pallor of his face not only a grim reminder of his recent illness…but of fury.

The atmosphere had gone cold, so cold Stephen could see his breath, and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

Seiðr was rolling off Loki’s form in waves. With a resounding click, the door locked by itself behind him.

“When our boy told me you’d been to see your doctor friends, not once, not twice, but on several occasions…” Loki walked slowly toward him, his hands hidden behind his back. “Can you imagine the state of fear I was in, Stephen?”

He stopped a short distance away. Far enough that he was out of Stephen’s immediate reach, but close enough for Stephen to see the quiet rage warring with grief in his glassy green eyes.

“I thought you were ill.”

Stephen pushed himself off the hospital bed he was perched on very slowly.

“I’m doing this for us, Loki.”

Loki reared his head and his eyes began to glow, bright and iridescent.

“Taranis demanded human sacrifice by burning. Teutates by drowning. Esus by hanging,” Loki invoked the names of his fellow deities from long ago, the spite and reverence rolling off his ancient tongue. “But not once, not _once_ , have I myself, asked for blood to be spilled in my name.”

“You might be the first man to willingly mutilate himself in worship of me.”

“Loki…”

Enraged, Loki raised a hand. It began to glow, green and menacing. “Don’t.”

“Darling...” Stephen said warningly.

But Loki was too far gone.

Stephen's hospital gown disappeared as The Cloak flew around his shoulders. He slammed a hand against the wall and the Mirror Dimension loomed around them, engulfing them both.

“We can talk about this," Stephen tried to reason.

“Yes…talk.” The livider Loki was, the softer his voice.

He laid a hand on his belly. “Do you hate this part of me so much?”

Stephen’s throat went dry. “Loki, you’re getting this all wrong!”

“Yeah? Which part?” Loki asked casually. “The part where you promised me children, and changed your mind when I’m no longer strong enough to carry them?”

The chill that ran down Stephen’s spine was one he had felt before. The way Loki's eyes had darkened to an almost solid black, the stiff line of his spine...

“Loki, please, just listen to me for once!” He knew it was futile – they were futile words, for he was losing, he was losing Loki to the madness.

“Oh I’ve listened to you.” Loki smiled indulgently yet his eyes were empty. “No more, you said.”

Stephen stopped breathing. Something was coming -

“Let me save you the trouble, Doctor.” Loki’s dagger materialised in his hand. He raised it high above his head.

Stephen’s heart leapt to his throat.

“No, Loki, _don’t!”_ Stephen flew across the room, but he was not going to make it, he was too far -

He desperately lashed out, and golden tendrils of magic shot out of his hand in a blast of raw energy.

His sentient magic wrapped around the hilt of Loki’s dagger just as Loki stabbed it into his own gut. With a cry, Stephen wrenched it away, his golden whip sending the bloodied dagger skidding across the linoleum floor, and droplets of blood spattered in a clean arc on the sterile floor.

Stephen crashed into his husband and sent them tumbling onto the floor, knocking the very breath out of them both. He slammed his knees down, pinning both Loki’s arms underneath the weight of his body.

Like a doll, Loki sagged bonelessly beneath him, and Stephen frantically lifted Loki’s shirt, where the white was fast turning red –

“Are you _crazy?!”_ Stephen screamed. He pawed at the wound where the razor-sharp dagger had nicked the skin of Loki’s abdomen; blood was starting to well, bright and crimson against the white of Loki’s belly.

His healing spell flared to life and he slapped his hand over the wound, suturing it closed and cauterising it with his magic. Luckily it was not deep, but the dagger could have done so much damage had Stephen been a microsecond slower. So much more.

“Why would you do something like that?” Stephen cried, his voice thick and raw with disbelief. His hands shook with adrenaline as they cradled the sides of Loki’s face. He seized Loki’s ice-cold lips and kissed him angrily. “Why?!”

Dimly Stephen could hear frantic knocking on the door, the faint sounds of Dr Gaudoin calling out his name.

But the only thing in his line of vision right now was Loki.

His sweet, gentle, broken Loki.

Tears fell onto Loki’s face in big, fat droplets. Loki licked the salt away. How strange that all tears tasted the same, even when they were not his own.

“You are the sweetest, kindest, most loving person I have ever met, Doctor.”

Loki’s own tears rolled in silent, silver streaks down the sides of his face. “Yet you also are the cruellest.”

Stephen collapsed on top of him and buried his face in Loki’s shoulder.

Loki's hands, now free, rose to caress the back of Stephen’s head.

Now that the madness had passed, his head felt clear. He could see things brighter, hear things sharper. So much so that when Loki finally spoke, his voice was calm.

“I love you, Stephen.” That much was true.

Loki had never sounded more serene. “But I think it is best if we don’t see each other for a while.”

An eternity passed before Stephen finally stirred. In defeat, he nodded silently into Loki’s shoulder.

He sought Loki’s lips one last time, and felt them yield under his kiss, soft and familiar.

It ended too soon and Loki disappeared from under him, leaving Stephen to grapple at nothingness and thin, empty air.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sanctum Sanctorum, way back when_

 

Hands as cold as ice cupped the sides of his head from behind, only to meet at the centre of his forehead in a deliciously-cooling fan of fingers, the tips of which soon fast at work to knead soothing circles all over his throbbing head.

Stephen let out a sinful groan. “How on _earth_ do you manage to hit all the right spots?”

“Hmm. That’s an easyfficult question.”

“Loki, you would be the crown jewel of the psychiatry community if ever you feel like donating your brain to science,” Stephen mused with a sense of pride, as misplaced as it may be. “You take neologism to a whole new level.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll donate _your_ body to science,” Loki purred sweetly. “While your heart’s still beating.”

Stephen groaned again when Loki hit yet another spot right above his right temple. For all his words of poison, Loki was surprisingly gentle, and at his magic touch, the shard of pain that had been spiking the very spot for the last half hour miraculously disappeared. “God where have you been all my _life?_ ”

Expecting a clever comeback, Stephen was somewhat taken aback by Loki’s short, honest answer. “Lost.”

Stephen opened his eyes. He reached up and grabbed the hand closest to him. He kissed the pulse at Loki’s wrist. “Found,” he corrected.

The other hand stilled in the midst of ministration, but did not lift off Stephen’s temple.

Stephen kneaded his thumb along the palmar crease of the white, white hand.

Loki allowed him, and rubbed his own thumb over a keloid scar that wound around Stephen’s first knuckle like vine.

Stephen may be passable at palmistry but he had always avoided reading his own husband’s palm. It felt too much like intruding but what accidental glimpses he had had in the past, they always brought his attention to the tiny, almost imperceptible cross transecting the head line in the middle of Loki’s palm.

_Emotional crisis._

What kind of past lives must Loki have led, to still find it difficult to take Stephen at his word?

He kissed Loki’s pulse point again. “I’ve found you.”

Loki’s voice was unusually thick, “Took you long enough.”

“Time is never wrong, Loki. We found each other exactly when we were supposed to.” Stephen craned his neck in search of Loki’s lips. “You would have hated me had you met the old me.”

“Oh I don’t know…” Loki teased Stephen by substituting his cheek for his lips at the very last second and Stephen mewled in protest. “According to some people, hate sex is fantastic.”

“I don’t ever want to find out.” Stephen finally had enough and swivelled in his chair to lock his arms around his husband’s waist. He felt hot and cold at the same time; that plus the headache was making him clingy.

“Husband, you’re unwell.” Loki’s mercifully cold hand was bliss against the back of his neck. “Why don’t you come home and rest, hmm?”

“I can’t.” Stephen mumbled into Loki’s stomach. Even through all the leather, hugging Loki felt like hugging a human-sized ice pack, and it felt _good_. “Hong Kong needs these hieroglyphs deciphered by sunset today.”

“Yeah? And I’m guessing if you don’t get it done in time, an ancient beast will devour the Eastern hemisphere and cause global panic and catastrophic meltdown across all the major cities?”

“Close. Total annihilation of every man, woman and child within a thousand-kilometre radius, barring shrines built in worship of Ikuchi the legendary water dragon youkai, and its devotees.”

Loki sighed. “Let me see.” He twisted his body around to take a peek at what Stephen was working on.

“Child’s play,” he declared.

“Is it?” Stephen mumbled.

All it took was watching The Imitation Game over dinner one night to bring the smart alec out of his thousand-something-year-old husband, who fancied himself as somewhat of a codebreaker.

 _It was I who cracked the Enigma code and helped the British win the war,_ Loki had boasted.

Right.

“Cryptanalysing is an art. Using the Rosetta Stone as the key will take you way too long, and half of these hieroglyphics are pure nonsense anyway. White noise, red herrings to throw you off.”

“Really.” Maybe Loki did break the code and help the Allied Forces defeat the Germans after all.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to have to save the world for you again, aren’t I?”

Stephen only sniffed.

Loki sighed. “All because you thought it’d be fun to play in the rain, like the hopeless romantic that you are.”

“Norway’s rain is supposed to be the cleanest,” Stephen said mournfully. “Stian isn’t sick.”

“Yes, but your logic is flawed, dear husband. Stian is only half-human.”

Stephen snorted derisively but said nothing.

Loki wiggled out of his husband’s embrace and hooked his arms underneath Stephen’s armpits. “Come on. Up.”

“At least Stian had fun.” Stephen smiled at the memory.

“Yes, yes.” In the blink of an eye, Loki had them transported to their makeshift bedroom up in the attic of The Sanctum. There was something about making love under the glaring Eye of Agamotto that made the sex fantastic.

“Can’t you get us a proper living place here in New York?” he groused nonetheless as he positioned Stephen’s limbs so that they were all sufficiently contained within the confines of the small bed.

Stephen’s eyes were too heavy with fever to keep open but his ears pricked up. He asked hopefully. “Would you want one?”

“Somewhere with a proper bed where my legs don’t hang all the way down to the floor would be nice.” Loki conjured a cold flannel, imbued it with his ice magic so it would remain at just the nice side of freezing, and put it on Stephen’s forehead awkwardly, like he once saw on television.

“Thought you’d never want to leave Asgard. That’s why I never asked.” Stephen sighed ruefully, and blissfully at the same time. Perhaps getting sick needed not be so terrible after all.

“Asgard is Asgard,” Loki said softly. He placed the back of his hand against Stephen’s burning cheek. “New York is you.”

Stephen palmed Loki’s hand against the side of his face. “Asgard or New York, I am wherever you are.”

“As long as you’re with me, you won’t ever be lost, Loki,” he murmured. “Never again.”

Loki smiled gently. “Sleep, Stephen. I’ll save Hong Kong for you.”

“Hmm.” Stephen was drifting off now. “I’ll give you all the credit, don’t worry.”

Loki snorted. “Please don’t. I bet _you_ never declared yourself a doctor when you were still a lowly mortal and needed to take the aeroplane everywhere, for fear of being called to attend to emergencies mid-flight.”

“Do you truly think so little of me?”

Loki only laughed softly. He allowed his forehead to furrow in concern, but only because Stephen’s eyes were already closed.

“This is a one-time favour, darling.” Loki’s lips were cool against his parched, cracked ones.

“Till the next time it rains.” Stephen slipped a hot tongue in and nearly got it bit off.

“Don’t push it.”

______________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

“This one new?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The Master of the Horse petted the magnificent beast on the neck gently, before running a reverent hand down its sleek side. “We haven’t quite broken him in, but he’s getting there.”

This one was a beauty.

The Valkyrie watched as Loki reached out and offered the animal the back of his hand. It did not surprise her in the least when the stallion warmed to the Prince almost immediately and nuzzled its nose against his hand.

“He likes you.”

“Of course he does,” he said quietly. As he continued to gaze into the horse’s soulful eyes, Valkyrie wondered how it was possible that one could be as present in the moment, and at the same time, a thousand miles away as Loki was, so glazed were his eyes with poorly-concealed emotions.

Something had happened. Something majorly bad.

How else would one explain the sudden knock on her door that morning?

“Come ride with me, Valkyrie,” had been his curt order. Had she not seen the _please_ hidden in his eyes, she would not have thought twice about slamming the door in his face.

Maybe she was getting soft in her old age.

“Saddle him up,” he commanded softly.

 “I…don’t think this one is quite ready yet, my Prince.”

“Oh he’s ready.” Loki caressed the fine suede of its muzzle one last time. He turned around without another word and marched his way out of the stables.

The Master of the Horse looked to the Valkyrie helplessly. She shrugged. “Prince does what he wants.”

She watched Loki carefully as he absently tugged on his riding gloves. “Don’t worry. The first sign of a buck and I’ll make sure His Brattiness dismounts.”

As they trotted out onto the trail that led out to the more mountainous terrains on the immediate outskirt of New Asgard, Valkyrie braved her first venture into the realm of conversation.  

“What happened, Lackey?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit.”

Valkyrie gave her horse a gentle kick and it cantered faster to catch up to him; for someone so keen on companionship, Loki was certainly trying his best to put a distance between them. “You would never leave your children alone, not this early in the morning. That means Fancy Man must be around. And instead of snuggling under the covers all cosy and warm, you’re out here, in the cold, with me.”

“I didn’t come out here to talk, My Lady.”               

The reins were no longer slack in Loki’s hands; Valkyrie took it as a sign that Loki was done talking. Just as she thought, Loki bridged his reins and started to gallop, fast gaining speed.

_Oh boy._

Angry riding was dangerous riding. And dangerous Loki meant reckless Loki. And reckless Loki meant it could go either way; the day could end with Valkyrie receiving a medal for saving his neck, or receiving the axe for letting Loki break it for the second time.

No, she had to protect that neck at all cost – “Loki, wait up!”

_______________________________________________

Saying goodbye to one’s children, no matter how temporary, was a lot more difficult than Stephen had imagined.

“Will you be gone long, Daddy?” Stian asked sadly.

He knelt down. He stared at his son’s forlorn face and felt something in his chest break.

“There’s just a few things I have to take care of, buddy.” He touched Stian’s cheek. His son’s default body temperature was somewhere between Loki’s hypothermic normal and the human ninety-eight Fahrenheit.

Stian was just another marvel that he was going to miss touching every night, he realised numbly.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch.”

He searched Stian’s hazel eyes, and wondered not for the first time if Stian knew; children had the uncanny ability to sniff out when things were not quite right with their parents. He suspected Stian’s otherworldly sixth sense had alerted him that something was amiss. It was evident in the way Stian was not letting go of his hands.

“But you’ll come back?”

Stephen’s throat dried. “Of course I will, Stian.”

Stian stared deep into his eyes, and straight into his soul.

“Aífe will miss you. She likes it when you sing her songs.” Stian’s eyes watered. 

“Stian, I won’t be gone forever.” He kissed his son’s forehead fiercely. “It’s just for a little while.”

Stephen stood and straightened to his full height reluctantly. But at least he was no longer at eye level when his firstborn threw his arms around his legs and squeezed tightly.

“Take care of your Pappa for me, will you?” Stian nodded silently into the flesh of his thigh.

Erla silently offered Aífe.

Stephen hefted his daughter in the crook of his elbow and he marvelled at how steadily she was sitting in his arm. She had just started babbling, and although it was too early to tell if she was more Loki or more Stephen, her humanly friendliness may just swing in Stephen’s favour – this one was a Daddy’s Girl, surely.

Stephen pressed his nose against her cute, button one. “I love you, Princess. You be a good girl and don’t give your Pappa too much trouble alright?”

He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, committing her sweet, baby smell to memory.

Stephen looked down at the top of Stian’s head, still pressed against his leg. Almost as an afterthought, he suddenly called. “Stian.”

Stian looked up. His eyes were dry, but the depth of sadness in them was unfathomable, and Stephen fought back tears as he groped in his pocket. “Here.”

Stian plucked the object out of his father’s palm. Stephen placed his hands on his knees and peered in his son’s face. “Whenever you need me, just hold that really tightly in your palm and breathe your magic into it. Call my name, and I will come to you.”

Despite the cloud of misery still hanging over his head, a twinkle returned to his eyes. Stian beamed. “Is this your ring, Daddy?”

“Used to be, yes,” Stephen smiled. “It’s yours now, Stian. It’s still too big for you to wear, but just keep it somewhere safe. Don’t lose it alright?”

“I won’t!” Stian promised. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He watched Stian peruse his new sling ring, engrossed in his first relic of magic. 

_My Little Sorcerer Supreme._

Stephen’s smile faltered.

He knew now was the right time to leave, with Stian distracted enough with his gift. But he could not leave just yet.

He looked down at his own ring. The white gold was as pristine as it was on the day Loki slipped it on his finger.

All it would take to find its soulmate was a breath of a spell, but there was nothing Stephen quite feared so much as calling on his magic to find Loki, only to find that Loki –

No.

Loki would never take his ring off. Stephen would know if he had.

“Pappa’s at the stables, Daddy.” Once again, Stian's sixth sense came to Stephen's rescue, saving him from having to find out. “Pappa wants to say goodbye too.”

_____________________________________________

Stephen watched as Loki’s stallion thundered down the last hundred yards to where the stablemaster was waiting.

Watching Loki ride always stole his breath away; there was something about Loki’s regal form, always agile and fluid and one with beast and wind alike, his long black hair blowing freely behind him, as sleek as the mane of his horse.

Just when he thought Loki was going to storm past the stables and not stop, Loki visibly sank deeper in the saddle and squeezed back on the reins, halting the horse gracefully a mere few feet away from the awaiting stable master.

The Master of the Horse stepped forward to help him down but Loki waved him away. With one fluid movement, Loki dismounted, but he did not immediately step away.

Stephen could not see his face as Loki patted the magnificent beast on the neck a few times, before Loki hung his head and rested his forehead against its crest. After a few, long seconds, Loki abruptly lifted his head, handed the reins over and stalked off.

Had Loki taken off his riding gloves, Stephen could have put his mind and heart to rest, but he supposed keeping faith was the best thing to do right now.

He was about to march across the grass field when a familiar voice halted him in his tracks. “I wouldn’t just yet if I were you, Highness.”

He did not turn. “Did he tell you?”

The Valkyrie was silent.

“What I did?” He tipped his head slightly, but still not quite turning all the way, only enough to catch a glimpse of silver out the corner of his eye. “What he did?”

“No.” She stepped closer. “And no.”

She was now close enough for him to feel the heat of her aura on his back.

He turned around fully to face her.

“He didn’t say a word.”

Stephen only regarded her silently. The Valkyrie did not seem angry. He would have expected her to try to strike him where he stood but she seemed strangely civil.

They must have stood and stared at each other for minutes on end.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” The look of worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

“But I’ll help you,” she said finally. “I don’t necessarily like you but I will.”

Stephen’s lips parted as if to speak, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “What did I tell you about not hurting him? I’m not on your side.”

Despite her harsh words, her eyes were the softest he had ever seen her look at him. “But I’ll try my best.”

It was not much, not much at all...but Stephen could feel the weight lift off his heart slightly. “Thank you,” he said numbly.

She nodded curtly. “He asked me to give you this.”

Stephen stared at the small envelope she had in between her index and middle fingers. He hesitated, knowing he had no choice but to accept the letter Loki could not seem to deliver himself.

He took it and palmed it out of sight. He was not going to open it here. Not in front of others.

Without a word, Valkyrie turned to leave, before an afterthought stopped her in her tracks. “Oh, almost forgot.”

She twirled around and her long black hair framed a face wearing a look almost as forlorn as the one on Stian’s.

“He did say to tell you that you’re free to see your children whenever you want.”

She waved a careless goodbye, before ending her messenger duties with a knowing look, “They are as much yours as his, he said.”

__________________________________________

_Sanctum Sanctorum, New York_

 

Stephen sat heavily on the double bed in the attic where he and Loki once shared. The Eye stared down on him, ever the silent observer, never judgmental but ever ready to lend an ear whenever he needed it.

The sun was setting in New York, and what little of the dusk that streamed through the skylight was a dull, pallid red. It reminded him of a withered grapefruit Loki had once left out on the kitchen counter back home in Asgard.

Home.

Stephen closed his eyes. He wished the disappearing sun still had some warmth left to it, but he doubted that even the brightest morning sun could illuminate the void fast expanding in his chest.

It was now or never. He had held it off long enough.

The envelope was small, only the size of his palm, but of a substantial weight despite its dismal dimensions. The Prince’s stationery was, like Loki, fancy and luxurious. How its content fared against its decadence was anyone’s guess.

_Now or never._

Stephen opened it and peeked inside.

He stared at its content for the longest time.

_Oh, Loki._

To think that he had been filled with such dread, terrified of what he would find

Stephen barked a laughter, mirthless and bitter.

Of course.

Of course it was not Loki’s ring. Loki would never do that to him.

Stephen tipped the envelope upside down, and Loki’s soft locks fell onto his palm.

He fingered the silky strands numbly. His husband's hair felt exactly the same as how it felt the first time Stephen held it between his fingers all those years ago.

It was arguably Loki's first token of love to him, wasn't it?

As he pocketed the precious relic away at his breast, the ending scene of the last movie they had watched together flashed through his mind’s eye, and Stephen felt his heart plummet -

He thought of Vincent, a mortal man with a faulty heart and a life expectancy fast approaching its expiry, and Jerome, the gifted, genetically-engineered, perfect superhuman of the best pedigree, whose tragic accident robbed him of his legs, forcing him to live the life of a cripple.

Jerome lent Vincent his body, and in return, Vincent lent Jerome his dreams. The Heavens answered Vincent’s wish to see the stars, and on the day of Vincent’s mission to space, Jerome gifted Vincent with the same gift Stephen was now holding in his hand.

A lock of Jerome’s hair that Vincent took with him into space, for Jerome had to be there when Vincent finally set his eyes on the stars...a gift that would have been out of his grasp had it not been for his Jerome, simply because Vincent was not born perfect. Simply because he was born human, a God child.

Jerome Morrow died in the end. He set himself on fire in the very incinerator pivotal to their identity-swapping, dream-lending tryst.

_Am I your Vincent, Loki?_

Stephen closed his eyes.

_Are you giving me hope, or are you saying goodbye?_

“What have I done?” he whispered in the dark. No one answered.

“What the fuck have I done?”

 _What you’ve always intended all along,_ a voice finally spoke.

Perhaps the voice was right, whoever it was. He just did not expect it to hurt this much.

Stephen let the tears come.

He had to, lest he wake every ghost in this place with his screams of rage and fury and grief.

 _This way Loki will never get hurt,_ the voice spoke again, placating, gentle. It sounded too much like his own voice to be anyone else.

_You will never hurt Loki anymore. That’s what you’ve always wanted._

_Isn’t it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The significance of Loki's hair...goes all the way back to the first few chapters of The Contract. Perhaps Loki is every bit as sentimental as Stephen.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sanctum Sanctorum, New York_

 

“What have you made of him so far?”

“From my observation, he has not done much of anything, apart from spending hours on end standing in the middle of the room and staring off into space.”

“What, like in a trance or something?”

“More like meditating, I think. He would respond readily whenever I bring him food.”

“Any display of unusual abilities? He mentioned having been stripped off his powers, but Tony Stark is vouching for him because Yon-Rogg saved the spider kid from his pursuer. I was curious as to how.”

“No, he’s been strangely docile. A far cry from Loki when you first started seeing each other, that’s for damn sure.”

“Loki wasn’t all that bad…” Stephen felt somewhat obliged to defend his husband, despite knowing exactly what Wong was talking about.

“Yeah? Do you know how many times I caught him snooping around the Sanctum, trying to get into places he had no business of trying to get into?”

Stephen tried again, very unconvincingly. “Loki was harmless.”

“He was in my room, Stephen!”

“It was a bit of cheeky fun, Wong. He was pregnant remember? Pregnant people are in a totally different headspace, you really don’t want to go there.”

Wong blinked once, twice; every time he blinked his jowls moved as if grappling for words out of thin air.

“He was eating the plaster off my wall, Strange.”

Stephen sighed. He had heard this a hundred times, had explained it away a hundred more.

“He was suffering from pica, Wong. He was barely eating real food and his body was craving for nutrition.”

Stephen pointed an accusing finger, “You pulled rank on me when I first got here and took the nicest room which happened to have the nicest, beautifully-preserved stucco walls from the eighteenth century. How could he resist?”

“Yeah well. At least the alien stray you picked up this time is staying put where we left him.”

Stephen frowned. “So I was right? He has no magic?”

“None whatsoever.” Wong shook his head. “I don’t know about brute strength but if you feel like challenging him to spar, I’d be happy to watch with my bowl of organic popcorn.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t beat me to it, Wong. You’re the one who’s always itching for a fight.”

Wong rubbed his chin absently. “I don’t know. There’s something about him that isn’t settling right with me.”

Stephen glanced at him out the corner of one eye. “Care to elaborate?” he asked casually.

“Can’t explain it. Just a feeling.”

“This feeling you have, you…ever had it with Loki?” he asked lightly.

“Hell no. Loki’s crazy is out there, he doesn’t hide it. When he messes with you, you know he’s messing with you.” Wong sniffed, but not unfondly. There was something about having to save the guy’s life twenty times over that made Loki grow on him, like Penicillium on blue cheese.

“This Yon-Rogg fella is a brick wall. Can’t see beyond it.”

“Is that why you haven’t let him out of the Mirror Dimension?” Stephen ventured an educated guess.

“I may have the nicest room with the spotty walls but you’re Sorcerer Supreme. You get first dibs on our alien guest.”

“Well. It wouldn’t be wise anyway to engage him directly without back-up I guess.” Stephen half-consciously circumducted his shoulders to loosen his joints. “I’m here now so there’s no time like the present.”

Wong looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not usually in at this hour.” After a beat, “Everything okay with the wife and kids back in Asgard?”

He hesitated. Wong’s jibe aside, he knew his friend only had the best of intentions at heart.

Stephen had been pondering the merits and demerits of confiding in Wong; if anyone could understand the motives behind his actions and his predicament, it would be his loyal and steadfast friend and second-in-command.

“We’re going through a rough patch at the moment.”

Wong was quiet for a moment. “It’s still hitting Loki pretty hard, huh.”

“Three times harder now.”

Wong looked at him warily. “Are we still talking about the Moroccan spell I warned you not to use?”

It had been too specific a protective spell crafted for one’s personal use; the addendum was severely lacking in terms of potential effects on the user’s sexual partner. Not to mention that it was in a strange language of Afrosiatic origin, a peculiar mix of Darija Arabic and Amazigh and did not translate very well – “Did something else happen?”

Stephen forced a smile; it looked false and sickly sweet.

“Maybe later, Wong. I’ve got all the time in the world now.” Hurriedly he gestured in the general direction of the stairs leading up to the second floor, where all of the private rooms were located. “Shall we attend to our guest? I owe Stark a report like, yesterday.”

Stephen gave Wong a guarded look. “I hope you reinforced the invisibility wards on our door like I told you, we don’t want him to come knocking uninvited again like last time.”

“What do you take me for, Strange, a newbie?” Wong gave a nervous laugh.

“Right.” Stephen rolled his eyes, and watched Wong scamper away like an overgrown puppy.

Wong would not be pleased to hear about Loki’s astral pregnancy and its disastrous outcome. But if there was one person in the universe he trusted to set his head and heart straight, (outside of Loki of course, but the conflict of interest and this new cold war brewing between them had more or less sanctioned that option of communication) it was Wong. Wise, sadistically snarky but quietly non-judgmental Wong.

Wong would say what he needed to say, not what Stephen wanted to hear. Kinda like Bruce Banner, but funnier. Stephen was lucky at least, in that respect.

_Luckier than Loki._

The thought came to him spontaneous and out of the blue, but it did not fill him with triumphant pride…only dread. A sickeningly-heavy, gut-boring dread.

Loki was on a downward spiral. No, not even a spiral. A free-fall.

Stephen could only hope the Valkyrie had far enough reach to grab onto him before he could hit rock bottom.

_“Loki.”_

Only static and silence answered him.

 _‘As long as we are both on the same planet, there is no place I cannot reach you,’_ Loki once said.

_“You lie, Loki.”_

Silence had a way of saying things words could not say. Not even Stephen’s taunt was enough to get Loki to respond.

A painful twinge in his chest had him prodding the area under his left rib where he knew his heart was.

Stephen frowned. The pain disappeared too quickly for it to have been anything physically real. His fingers pressed on something flat and smooth underneath his tunic.

His ring caught in an unspooled piece of thread, and Stephen knew not if it was that, or simply magic that kept his hand pressed to his chest for longer than was necessary.

 _“Every part of you is magic, isn’t it?”_ He knew not if Loki was even listening but Stephen said it anyway, for he was only speaking the truth.

Stephen traced the outline of the stiff outline of the envelope containing Loki’s hair, kept on him where it would be safe at all times. After the debacle with Orri, guarding every part of Loki was as much a calling as being Sorcerer Supreme. He only wished he sucked less at it.

He sighed. Wong was taking too long.

“Anytime today, Wong!” He bellowed and made his way deeper into the sanctuary where duty and hence, sorely-needed distraction, was calling.

_“Don’t forget your vitamins, Loki.”_

It could have been his imagination, but Stephen could swear he heard a delicate snort. He stilled in his tracks.

Nothing.

Well. Imagination or not, Stephen allowed himself to smile anyway, for sentiment rather than anything else.

Everything started from something, and something from nothing, the optimist in him quipped helpfully.

If Anubis were to weigh his heart right now, it would be as heavy as his steps as he trudged up the stairs, feeling weary already despite it being hardly mid-morning.

It was going to be a long, nothing day.

__________________________________________

“Doctor Strange.”

Wong had taken Yon-Rogg’s shackles off.

Stephen was not worried. Not when they were protected within the boundaries of the Mirror Dimension and he had a sling ring at his disposal, unlike the Kree who was sitting in his chair against the window, out of which he had been staring before Stephen walked in.

“I trust you are finding your accommodation comfortable?”

“It is sufficiently comfortable. For a prison,” Yon-Rogg said evenly. “Planet C-53 is known across the galaxies for its hospitality.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Your capitalistic system treats civilians and criminals alike, as expected. Your defence system is still paltry though. Not much better than the last time I visited.”

Yon-Rogg watched as Stephen conjured himself an armchair. Despite being only three feet away, the sunlight streaming in through the windows missed Stephen altogether. “C-53 has gained the reputation for being the watering place for all forms of life. You will accept anyone in, no matter their species.”

“Uh-uh.” His face stony, Stephen clasped his hands neatly in his lap. “Putting the implied notion that the Earth is vulnerable to alien threats aside, I’m more interested in your former statement. Have you come across many criminals lately to speak so confidently of that matter? It is a serious allegation.”

Yon-Rogg smiled. “Aren’t we all criminals, Doctor? Have we all not wronged somebody before, in the short amount of time you’ve lived, as I have in the long life I’ve lived?”

At times like these, Stephen felt thankful he was married to a thousand-plus-year-old alien. Loki’s wit and ancient, black humour had long prepared him for weird talks like this one.

“How would you like to bargain?” He fell back on the oldest trick in his book.

“The only bargain that interests me is one that can release me from this invisible prison. I am getting…what do you call it…cabin fever?”

“Alright, then.” Stephen made a show of obliging to lull the Kree into a false sense of security. “I’ll ask the questions, Commander. An honest answer takes you one step closer to freedom.”

“No. Where I come from, a bargain has to be a win-lose situation.”

“A combat then?” If he could gander a guess, the way the Kree was suddenly holding onto his armrest was telling of an itch; an itch to fight, to _move_.

They were warriors both, after all. “A successful blow gets me an answer.”

“What if that successful blow is mine?” Yon-Rogg goaded.

Stephen crossed his legs and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You know what I am offering. A step closer.”

“Oh yes, a step is what I want. A step closer…” Suddenly, Yon-Rogg was out of his seat and in his face. “- to you.”

“You are already closer to me than I would like,” Stephen said coolly. Yon-Rogg had braced his hands on Stephen’s armrests, standing so close to him he could feel the heat of the Kree’s breath, hot against the skin of his face.

Yon-Rogg took a step back and only smiled that empty smile of his. “I apologise for my forwardness, Doctor.”

Stephen cleared his throat loudly. “So? What is your proposed term then? Let me hear it.”

“You can’t handle me, Doctor. The price for the information you seek is more than what you’re willing to pay.”

“Try me.”

“A kiss for every blow.”

Wong made a horrible sound from somewhere behind him. Stephen ignored him.

“Every ten.”

“Two.”

“Eight.”

Yon-Rogg’s eyes were a dark, bottomless pools of blue with flecks of gold. “Come now, Doctor. You’re a curious soul. Three blows is a good price for a taste of the exotic.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows and this time he could not resist sharing a look with his friend; Wong simply had to laugh. These crazy beings from outer space, their tastes ran the same. “Aliens. You gotta love them, huh.”

Boy, Wong wished Loki were here. “Your move, Doctor Strange.” _Some gooood popcorn material right here._

Stephen’s smile was savage. “You’re ten a penny these days, Yon-Rogg. You’re not the first alien to drop out of the sky, and into my lap.”

“Oh I’ve heard,” Yon-Rogg said brightly. “You shelter entire nations of them now.”

The Kree ran a languid hand through his blond hair and leaned back in his chair, a smug expression on his handsome face. “I’ve got nothing to lose, Doctor. Just my life, and from where I’m sitting, you are dying to find out if it is your Mirror Dimension that is keeping me here, or something out there that is.”

Their staring contest lasted approximately ten seconds. The Kree said serenely, “Three.”

“Five, and that’s my final offer.”

“Done.” And the Kree was out of his seat in a flash –

And they were transported to the brightly-lit training ground right in the basement of the Sanctum. Wong was delighted to find that Stephen had teleported him as well, but he hoped he would only need to act in the capacity of an enraptured spectator, rather than a back-up if things went belly-up on them.

Yon-Rogg moved with such speed and agility Stephen was momentarily taken aback. His reactions were much slower and he barely managed to dodge the Kree’s thrusting fist, narrowly missing his face. Stephen brought up his forearm and blocked the next blow, determined not to let him touch any part of his body.

If he could help it.

Stephen knew Yon-Rogg had to be strong. The Kree were a species renowned for their superhuman strength and advanced technologies far surpassing the other planets in their solar system; that was why they were such a formidable military power. And Yon-Rogg was no ordinary military soldier. He was clearly highly-trained in combat, for his blows rained on Stephen in a blur of well-timed fists and kicks – and elbows and knees and everything in between.

Yon-Rogg lunged, thrusting a powerful punch aimed straight for Stephen’s throat. On reflex, he clamped his fingers around the Kree’s wrist, blocking the jab which would have crushed his windpipe otherwise. Years of training had taught Stephen what to do, and in a flash, he unclenched his fist, extending his arms forward, thrusting his hands open like spades –

He jabbed Yon-Rogg right in the Adam’s apple, sending the Kree backward a few steps.

“One,” Stephen said smoothly. “Who are you looking for?”

Yon-Rogg smiled, not in the least daunted by the fact that Stephen had landed the first blow. “An old friend.” He started to move forward, but Stephen held out a hand.

“Nuh-uh. A proper, honest answer.”

Yon-Rogg’s fighting stance did not waver.

“She was last seen in your orbit some years ago, when you fought a being called Thanos.” Stephen’s nose flared at that name. “You must know of her.”

Yon-Rogg took advantage of the distraction and in a blur of movements, soon had Stephen on his knees with the Kree’s own knee drilled into his back. “One.”

Stephen bucked violently and reared his head, slamming it hard against the Kree’s face. He heard the satisfying crack of the back of his skull meeting Yon-Rogg’s nose. “Two.”

An old friend, Yon-Rogg had said. A fellow Kree?

“Carol Danvers?” Stephen twisted his body to the side before the Kree could pin him down again. Yon-Rogg held the heel of his palm against his nose which was bleeding a peculiar shade of blue. “Why?”

“Urgh. She still goes by that name?” The nosebleed stopped as Yon-Rogg’s healing ability kicked in. Stephen, already back on his feet in his fighting stance, stared at the blue stain clinging stubbornly to the alien’s dimpled chin.

But his victory was short-lived. Yon-Rogg was already on the counter-attack, and Stephen blocked a swooping boot that would have caught him right in the noggin. Ever the opportunist, Stephen took advantage of the inertia and looped his arms around the Kree’s shin and twisted _hard_.

Yon-Rogg let himself be spun in the air, and landed on the ground on his belly, but not before he lashed out a swift leg and kicked Stephen in the stomach, sending the Sorcerer Supreme reeling backward into the padded wall of the dojo.

“Two down, three to go, Stephen.”

At the Kree’s nonchalant use of his given name, Stephen bristled. “I get another question, don’t I.”

Yon-Rogg shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Carol Danvers has not been in our orbit in more than half a decade. Surely your intelligence knows of this. It wouldn’t have sent you on a wild goose chase this far out of your solar system.”

Stephen rubbed a hand across his stomach. The Captain was right. The guy packed a _wallop_. “Lie to me one more time and the bargain is off, Commander.”

“Oh but you have a way of calling her.” Yon-Rogg frowned. Doubt was beginning to creep into his smooth, cultured voice. “You used it to call upon her when you needed her help the last time. I need to know how.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. You’re better off asking Anthony Stark about that.”

Yon-Rogg’s face fell, and his arms dropped limply to his side as all fight left him.

Just when Stephen thought they were done with their sparring, the Kree unexpectedly launched himself forward; he grabbed Stephen’s shoulders and easily wrested him onto the floor, pinning him down with the full weight of his body.

Before Stephen even knew what hit him, the Kree boxed him once, twice on the right shoulder, and finally, once on the left, _hard_.

“Five, Doctor,” Yon-Rogg declared his victory with an air of austerity that sorely reminded him of Loki.

Stephen groaned inwardly, more in emotional pain rather than the physical.

He missed his husband terribly. It was his Loki he wanted, not this – this humanoid alien straddling him flat out on his back on the floor of his dojo, with Wong’s manic cackling ringing from somewhere in the background.

“Empathy is a distraction.” Yon-Rogg vaulted off him and flipped backward in a somersault that would have been too graceful to execute for someone of his build, had Stephen not seen it for himself.

The guy was full of drama, just like Loki.

“Well, shit.” Stephen said coolly, dusting himself off.

“So what now Commander?” Yon-Rogg straightened. At his full height, he was a smidge shorter than Stephen, but not short enough that they would not look directly into each other’s eyes when the Kree would finally claim his prize.

Stephen waited. If Yon-Rogg was not going to give him a straight answer, he was just going to have to pull it out of him.

Good thing it was to be on the Kree’s term too. Sometimes Stephen could not believe his luck.

When the kiss finally came, Stephen was ready – Yon-Rogg’s lips were coarse and dry, and Stephen almost wished they were softer so it would at least feel like kissing Loki, but his childish, somewhat adulterous thoughts soon vanished as he reached out with his magic and _probed_.

Hundreds upon hundreds of images flitted through his mind’s eye like a reel of silent movie. Some of them made sense, many of them did not.

Yon-Rogg’s mind was a vast lightshow of war and combat and death. Bodies upon bodies fell, friend or foe, in the heat of the moment or in battle, fought fairly or skewedly, Stephen knew not, but when his sentient magic settled on the very image his subconscious was looking for, Stephen’s heart skipped.

A hand slammed into his chest and propelled him forcefully ten steps back into the wall; had it not been for the fast reflexes of The Cloak cushioning him against the impact, he would be sporting a nice goose egg on the back of his head, if not a fracture.

Stephen could feel the heat of Wong’s mandala as his fellow Master rose to his feet in alarm.

“What did you do to me?” Yon-Rogg hissed.

“What I should have done from the beginning.” Stephen’s eyes were hard. “What you are seeking is not here.”

Stephen waved a hand and the shackles materialised out of thin air; with a clang, they clamped themselves around Yon-Roggs wrists.

The Kree gnashed his teeth together and snarled at his own bound hands. He looked furious.

“You won’t be going anywhere, Buddy.”

As if on cue, a wispy sound slithered through the air, a sound so close it must be audible only to him.

Stephen frowned deeply and waited with bated breath.

Felt rather than heard, the whisper came again – _Daddy!_

 _“Stian?”_ Stian sounded terrified. _“Stian, what’s wrong?”_

He was not entirely sure if the connection through their sling rings was two-way, but if Stian could hear him, his son was not answering his questions.

 _Daddy, help!_ Came the whisper again, more urgently this time.

“Wong, I have to go.” Wong must have seen the panic in his eyes. His fellow Master nodded curtly. “If Stark calls, tell him I’m out and that he’ll hear from me shortly.”

He had to get back to Asgard.

Stephen leaned in to whisper something in Wong’s ear, whose single-lidded eyes instantly widened.

“Don’t let Mister WWE here out of your sight.”

Wong’s eyes too, had hardened. “You got it, Boss.”

________________________________________

“Honestly Valkyrie, can’t this wait until later? There’s plenty of time before the banquet to get changed, the children wouldn’t even take that long to get read –” Loki’s voice trailed as he caught sight of the familiar figure standing in the middle of his living room.

Loki’s naturally pale face went a few shades paler. He turned sideways, as if hiding his face could somehow render him invisible.

“What is he doing here?” he could hear his own voice, dim, muted, as if from a distance.

“Beats me,” Valkyrie said coolly, feigning ignorance. “Ask him.”

Loki’s countenance hardened. He may be many things, but a coward he was not.

He turned to face Stephen once again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a few decibels louder than necessary. He regretted it instantly, for there was no _way_ Stephen could have missed the way it shook.

Stephen only gazed at him steadily. “In a nutshell? The Parent Trap.”

Loki groaned softly. “Stian…”

He _knew_ they should not have watched that one.

Loki straightened his shoulders, and turned around, fully intent on stalking out while he still had the chance. “Well. Excuse me while I untrap myself.”

“Nuh-uh.” Valkyrie barred the door.

“Step aside.” Loki’s command was soft. “That’s an order, Captain.”

“Thor outranks you. Shall I tell him that you have not spoken to each other in almost a week? And there’s no point lying about your magic telephone because I’m _sure_ it’s ringing off the hook.”

Loki was having none of it. He was just going to have to ram his way through –

A vambraced arm damn near slammed into his nose as it shot out in a flash of silver, effectively blocking his exit.

“Valkyrie. Please.”

She was not giving in, not an inch. “I can tell him right now and he will have your Fancy Man’s head rolling on the ground so quick he’d still be able to feel his headless body hit the ground.”

Loki’s chest stilled. Valkyrie seized the chance, and slammed the door right in his face.

He turned around very, very slowly.

“Valkyrie was right about one thing. The phone may be ringing off the hook, but you never once picked up.”

Loki remained silent. His heart twisted painfully at the sight of Stephen’s haggard, unshaven face.

No. He must not give in.

“Won’t you say something, Loki?” At the sound of his name, uttered so gently in Stephen’s gentle voice, Loki was dangerously swaying.

“I can find nothing worth saying right this moment, I’m afraid.” Loki turned his face away. Maybe it would be easier if he did not look directly into those deep, penetrating eyes. “Neither can you, I gather?”

Loki heard the Cloak rustle as Stephen took a step closer toward him and he unconsciously took a step backward, only to realise he had his back to the wall when he bumped hard into the front door.

He felt a hysterical laugh trying to claw its way out of his claustrophobic throat. “Don’t worry, Strange. I do not expect anything by way of apology from you.”

“I really am sorry, Loki.”

A rush of grief washed over him out of nowhere. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Darling...”

Loki shook his head vehemently, cursing Stephen’s gall to even call him that anymore. “ ‘Everything you do is as sure to your whole-hearted will as is set in stone’, was what you said when we first met, if you recall.”

“A _Hel_ of a pick-up line, Doctor.” Loki still sounded impressed after all these years, his lips curled in a reminiscent ghost of a smile against his will. “You completely had me then, did you know?”

“Do you think you can try seeing things from my point of view, Loki?” Stephen asked quietly.

“What even is your point of view?” Loki did not sound mocking in the least, for it was a genuine question after all. “We agreed that our two children are enough for now. We agreed to try to figure out a way for me to conceive and carry as painlessly as possible.”

“How did we get from that to here, Stephen?” The grief bled from Loki’s every word, and the wound Loki thought was healing opened itself again. His eyes welled. “How did you get from agreeing to wait, to not wanting at all?”

“You know how.” A sick whisper. “You think you alone felt the pain of losing?”

In a heartbeat, Stephen was standing just an arm’s length away, so close the heat of his body was pulling Loki in, scalding the ice in his veins. “I was right _there_ , Loki. I was the one who held your body and poured the damn tonic into your mouth.”

Stephen’s hand shook when he reached out as if to touch, but he pulled back when Loki started to shake his head violently again.

“I watched you grieve.” Stephen drew in a ragged breath; it was stifling hot in here – “Well guess what. I was grieving too, just as much as you! Maybe even more because I was the one who took their lives!”

“Always a fucking competition with you, isn’t it?” Loki snarled. “You may say this is no power play, Doctor, but I beg to differ.”

Stephen’s lips parted slightly as if to speak, but Loki raised a shaky hand. “You took away my say, when you went to see that doctor, because this is not about spacing anymore.”

Loki’s voice was thick with tears. “You could have told me from the beginning that you did not wish to have any more children with me, why didn’t you?”  

Stephen resisted the urge to slam a hand on the kitchen counter. “Damn it, Loki, I did it for _you!”_

“That’s exactly what I said to Odin, and you know what he said then? He said ‘Thank you very much, Loki, but no.’ ” Loki wrapped his arms around himself. “So thank you very much, Stephen, but no. You didn’t do it for me. You did it for _yourself_.”

“If you could please substantiate your allegation with some kind of justification, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you?” Loki said bitterly. “I am not some vengeful God you need to appease with blood and tears and self-sacrifice, Stephen. I am not one of your disciples who falls in line at your every beck and call. I am your husband.”

“I see you sitting there in that horrid gown and –” Loki hung his head low and his long hair fell over his face. He cupped a hand over his eyes. “What makes you think I can live with that on my conscience, Stephen?”

Stephen took the chance and grabbed hold of Loki’s shoulders. Loki stiffened at the touch, but thankfully did not pull away. Stephen knew it was now or never, he had to resolve this, or he would never forgive himself.

“I’d rather die by a thousand swords than have _your_ death on my conscience, Loki,” he said gently.

“I am standing right in front of you, alive and quite well by my standards,” Loki said, just as softly. “Do you see something in my future that is forcing your hand to act in this manner, Stephen?”

Stephen’s jaws clenched. His answer came not a moment too soon. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Honestly, Strange…” Loki buried his face in his hands again. “I live in the present. I choose to.”

Loki’s hands fell away, revealing a face tight with utter frustration. “Why must you live in the future? A future which may or may not come to pass?”

“You don’t see what I see, Loki.”

“So you think that makes it alright to lie to me? You keep the truth from me, to what, protect me?” he scoffed in disbelief.

Stephen did not answer.

“What irony. The God of Lies, they call me. I’ve always thought I got that name because I was Machiavellian and insufferably clever.” Loki’s throat went suddenly dry at the dawning realisation that “The joke’s on me, as it’s always been for the last fifteen hundred years.”

“I never meant to hurt you, Loki.” Stephen’s voice was equally stricken with grief. “I love you.”

“Yes…that’s what they all say.” Loki gently pried Stephen’s hands off his arms. He made his way slowly to the living room and sank into the couch. He leaned his head backward, and his hair spilled off the headrest like waterfall.

“My parents lied so I would never feel different.” With his head thrown back like that, Stephen could see Loki’s long lashes flutter as he blinked lazily once, twice.

“Well you didn’t make me feel different, Strange. You made me feel like a failure.”

Loki would not weep, too many tears had been spent lamenting the ruins of what had once been his refuge, his happy place –

“You once said I was the most perfect creature in your universe,” he whispered.

“You are.” Stephen was by his side in an instant. His hand grabbed hold of Loki’s and _squeezed_. “And that is precisely why I cannot lose you.”

“You don’t have to lose me, Strange. That’s my whole point.” Loki slowly turned his head to the side to look at his husband in wonderment.

_How is it that you still can’t see, Stephen?_

“I agreed, remember?” Loki said tiredly. “If you had come to me suggesting _abstinence_ for the rest of our lives, I would have agreed. Very, _very_ reluctantly, of course, but I would have gone along with it.”

Stephen was stunned.

“What, that surprises you?” Bitterness tinged Loki’s voice. “I didn’t marry you for the sex, Stephen.”

“I married you for you.” Loki turned his head to the front once again, and closed his eyes. He was suddenly very, very tired. “You just happen to be a great lay.”

Stephen laid his head back against the couch and together, they stared at the ceiling, watching nothing and everything pass them by with each shared heartbeat.

“God this has been a right TARFU from the beginning,” Stephen finally spoke at long last.

Loki stared at him blankly, the way he would on the very rare occasion his Allspeak malfunctioned and got things lost in translation.

“Totally and royally fucked up?” Stephen raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it. Thought you were around during our World War II.”

“The company I chose was more of the well-bred, respectable kind. Hitler’s bunkers were something else, though.” Loki laughed silently at the aghast expression on Stephen’s face. “Churchill’s War Rooms could get unbearably stifling sometimes.”  

“You are such an elitist snob.”

The air much lighter now, Loki wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the chill. The nights were colder now that Stephen was no longer around. “I was royalty, a war trophy, and a prisoner of war, all rolled into one, Stephen. Mustn’t lose my standard.”

Stephen’s face did not lose its guise of mild horror.

“Nah, I was mucking about Bletchley Park mostly, Turing was a strange and interesting character. We cryptographers are too well-educated to use such vulgarities.”

“You belong in a museum you know that.”

“It’d better be an open one, Strange. Not a glass cage.” Loki’s glazed eyes regained focus as they hardened. “I’d rather be in a tomb.”

Stephen sighed. “I’m sure you would.”

He rubbed a thumb across Loki’s ivory knuckles.

“Can we get past this?”

Loki’s hand jerked, and Stephen soothed it with a gentle, cajoling squeeze.

“Can we try again, Loki?”

_Please._

“I don’t know, Doctor,” Loki whispered, eyes darkened with unrelenting grief. “I would have forgiven you anything. But gelding yourself? That’s…kind of a point of no return for me, I’m afraid.”

Stephen held Loki’s hand tighter.

“I didn’t.”

Loki turned to look at him, uncomprehending.

“Geld myself, I mean. I didn’t go through with it.”

“You…didn’t?”

“How could I?” Stephen hesitantly reached out to touch Loki’s belly, right where he knew the blade had entered.

There was no mistaking its trajectory, Loki knew what he was aiming for.

“Do you know how I felt, seeing you plunge that dagger into yourself?”

“Now you know how _I_ felt when I saw you just sitting there in that horrible hospital gown, about to commit the biggest mistake of your life.” But Loki was smiling through his tears, “But I’m glad I stopped you.”

Stephen caressed Loki's face gently. A week he had not seen this face, and it was a week of pure torture. “Why do I love you?”

“I don’t know. You must be mad.”

“You and me both, then.” Stephen smiled wryly.

Then his smile faltered. “I love you, Loki.”

Loki’s tears finally escaped –

“I love all of you.”

And slid down faster.

“There is no part of you that I hate. It’s just not possible.” Stephen’s hand dropped once more to ghost over Loki’s abdomen. “Let alone the part that has brought our two children into the world.”

Loki’s green eyes softened. He palmed Stephen’s hand against his belly, as warm and heavy as he remembered. “Well. Good thing we made up right before the banquet. That means I’ll have a date for tonight.”

“What were you going to do if I hadn’t come?”

Loki shrugged. “I can easily grab just anyone and make him or her look like you.”

“ _Ah.”_ Stephen’s face began to crumple. “Please don’t.”

“Why would I need to when I have the real thing?” Loki turned onto his hip and sat himself sideways on the couch, finally facing Stephen full-front.

“Where is that cheeky little boy of ours?” Stephen was losing himself in Loki’s eyes.

“Probably hiding behind the door with Valkyrie.”

Stephen scooted closer, wrapping an arm loosely around Loki’s side. “Should we tell him it’s safe to come out now?”

“In a minute.” Loki could not hold himself back any longer. He leaned forward for a kiss, and stopped.

“Strange, why do I smell another…” Man? Woman? Loki could not tell. “Who is this that I am smelling on you?”

_Uh-oh._

“I’ve been sparring, darling.” Stephen said placatingly. He tightened his hold around Loki’s waist just in case Loki tried to do a runner on him. “Ask Wong, he’ll vouch for me.”

A jealous Loki was a possessive kisser and when the first barrage of kisses landed, Stephen was ready, and retaliated just as possessively. For there was nowhere he would rather be, no one he would rather hold, no other he would rather kiss –

Stephen let out a groan when a particularly deep kiss sent his head spinning. _“Fuck_ , Loki.”

“Sorry, no go.” Loki replied just as breathlessly, his cheeks aflush with lust, but his eyes gravely solemn. “Abstaining, remember?”

Stephen moaned loudly, but Loki was swift to shut him up with a little kiss and a lot of tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Stephen and Loki belong together. And they are utterly hopeless without Stian.


	9. A Place of Our Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up at The Sanctum.

_New Asgard, Present Time_

 

When the beast of amorous longing and pent-up emotions was finally appeased enough that Stephen could bring himself to separate his lips from Loki’s, and the call of lust from the call of reality, he pulled away.

Reluctantly, Loki obliged, for he too was a creature of magic, and thus inherently sensitive to the receding tide of passion. For better or for worse, they had catapulted themselves back in their comfort zone after having gone through what was arguably the worst emotional wringer of their marriage yet; they may be all the worse for wear, but Loki knew there were still scars and hidden wounds unaccounted for.

“I don’t know if we are all…all _there_ yet, Stephen.”

“I know.”

“I know _I’m_ not,” Loki confessed. “I have said terrible things, I have thought terrible thoughts…I still think them – ” A hand grabbed a clump of hair and _fisted_ , as though the dark thoughts could be pulled out of his brain, strand by strand.

“Shh. We can always talk later.” Stephen gently extricated Loki’s raggedy hair from his fingers. “Let’s just take it one at a time, okay?”

Stephen combed his hands through the knots in the attempt to untangle them. The strands slipped away readily but the knots were still there and Stephen stared at them confused.

He carded his fingers through Loki’s hair again. More clumps came away from his husband’s scalp and Stephen soon found himself clutching a handful of raven curls in his hand.

A sickening fear began to churn in his gut.  

“Loki.”

“Hmm?”

Stephen swallowed hard. “Nothing.”

Loki opened his eyes and gazed at his husband. “I refuse to play this game anymore,” he said softly.

It was a warning, subtle but sharp.

“When you said you were well by your standards, what did you mean?” Stephen asked delicately. “Is quite well Lokispeak for not quite well at all?”

Loki’s forehead furrowed so deeply his eyebrows nearly came together to meet.

Stephen silently showed him the clumps of hair in his fist.

“Why is it whenever I tell myself to stop worrying about you, I find even more reasons to?”

“You’re making a mountain out of a rathole, Stephen.” Loki gave him an exasperated look. “Do stop over-reacting.”

“I am not over-reacting. This is normal reacting for someone with even the slightest medical training.” Stephen tried to keep his voice calm and level. “And it’s molehill, by the way.”

Loki’s face turned stony. “I don’t like you when you’re like this,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, well, too bad.” Stephen took Loki’s hand and coaxed his magic through. Loki seethed silently but did not pull away. After a while, the stinging sensation subsided before it finally disappeared as Stephen’s magic finished up running its diagnostics through his veins.

“Well?” Loki said challengingly.

“Nothing seems amiss.” Stephen sounded relieved. Wary still, but relieved. “Your seidr feels more or less the same. You’re as wonderfully chaotic and rambunctious inside as always.”

“Like I said. Mountain. Rathole.”

Stephen allowed himself the tiniest smile. But the humour did little to assuage his anxiety. “So why are you losing your hair then?”

“I didn’t know I was until you pointed it out to me.” Loki fingered the tips of his shoulder-length hair thoughtfully. “I was going to say premature balding, but then I remembered that I am quite ancient, and belong in a museum.”

He looked at his husband who was still staring at him with those doeful eyes. “Honestly, Stephen. If I were a human patient, considering your intimate knowledge of me and my constitution, what would your differential diagnoses be?”

“Stress. Anaemia. Anorexia nervosa. Vitamin deficiencies.” Yeah. If he Googled those terms, Loki’s image would probably crop up once or twice in the search results.

Stephen’s face brightened slightly, but not by much

Loki nodded encouragingly. “All treatable, yes?”

Stephen found himself emulating Loki’s over-enthusiastic nodding. “You’re cleverer than you look.”

“I…don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

Stephen had better change the subject now. “You mentioned a banquet?”

“The Debutante Ball 2.0?”

“That’s tonight?”

“Unfortunately.”

“We can’t skip that, can we?”

“Not unless you want to incite a civil war. We have to show our support for Thor and his endeavour in finding himself a queen and begetting a truckload of heirs.”

“Oh I support him a hundred percent.” Stephen cocked his head. “I can even help him narrow down the list to the really compatible ones.”

“You do?” Loki cocked his head to mirror him. “You can?”

“Yep.” Stephen’s chest swelled with pride. “I don’t even need to look into their futures. I just read their palms. I can even see the placard. ‘HRH Dr Stephen Strange, Prince Consort of Asgard. Palm Reader Extraordinaire.’ ”

Loki could not help but laugh. “That’s very selfless of you.”

“On the contrary, Loki. I am unapologetically selfish in this matter.”

Stephen hesitated. All seriousness returned to his demeanour. “Maybe once you are satisfied that Thor’s reign over Asgard is secure and unchallenged, then maybe I can finally convince you to leave all this behind and come with me.”  

“Come with you…where?” Loki asked warily.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” Stephen studied his husband’s profile, trying to gauge how southward this line of conversation could potentially go.

“You once asked me to find us a proper place in New York. Just for us.” The back of his hand brushed against the back of Loki’s very lightly. “Is that still…in the plans, Loki?”

“A place of our own.” Loki mulled it over, tasting it on his tongue.

“A place of our own.” Yes.

It tasted surprisingly sweet. “I’d like that actually.”

None of Loki’s body language suggested that he was in any way jesting –

“I can start looking?” Stephen asked, sounding both bewildered and hopeful.

Loki marvelled at how earnest Stephen sounded. To think that Stephen had waited patiently all these years…

A sudden rush of warmth came over him.

_“My Dear Doctor.”_

Loki traced the sharp angular lines of his husband’s sweet face. “You can start looking, Stephen.”

Stephen stared at him for the longest time. Then he planted a fierce kiss in the palm of Loki’s hand and vaulted to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to New York.”

“You’re going to start looking _now?”_

“What? Oh, no. There’s just a few things I need to take care of, I was in the middle of something when Stian called.” Stephen leaned down to peck Loki quickly on the forehead. “I should be back in time for the dinner tonight.”

“Which reminds me. We need to have a talk with him. Tell him that crying wolf is _very_ frowned upon in the Odinson-Strange household.”

“Hmm. I have a suspicion that the Valkyrie is to blame.” Loki was quick to jump to his son’s defence. “Stian is too innocent.”

Stephen snorted. “You know what he calls himself? Stian of Asgard, Little God of Mischief.”

For all his parental protectiveness, Loki could not help but beam. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Only you would think so.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t think I don’t know what you call our son secretly in your head. My ‘Little Sorcerer Supreme.’ ”

Stephen was stunned. “How did you –”

“Aha!” Loki too jumped to his feet, and stabbed a finger in Stephen’s chest triumphantly. “I _knew_ it.”

Stephen let Loki have the last say. He was too overwhelmed with relief that Loki did not turn out to be a closet mind-reader as he had feared. But he frowned when Loki’s casual daywear shifted into his black and green Asgardian leathers.

At his questioning look, Loki shrugged. “I’m coming with you.”

“Why?” he asked warily.

“I wish to speak with Wong.” At the incredulous look on Stephen’s face, Loki only shrugged. “To enquire of him the validity of your story.”

“Really? Seriously? For real?” Maybe if he pretended to be offended, Loki would consider backing down.

“Why does this worry you so, Stephen?” Loki asked coolly.

_Fat chance._

Stephen tried for placating, but he doubted his smile was anything close. “Uh, no reason.”

He drew a circle in the air to call up his Asgard-New York portal, all the while uttering nonsensical prayers in every language he knew; Wong had better have his back.

He gestured grandly, hoping it would mask the slight nervousness in his voice. “After you.”

________________________________________

_Sanctum Sanctorum, New York_

 

The portal opened into the main Drawing Room where Stephen had expected to see Wong, but he was surprised to see neither hide nor hair of his fellow Guardian. Anthony Stark was due to arrive any minute for a debriefing and hopefully to escort the prisoner back to…wherever. As long as it was outwith their immediate solar system; the farther the better.

“Wong!”

Stephen’s voice echoed off the walls, which usually carried but the air stirred languidly, heavy and still.

Loki was still looking at him with an expression best described as a cross between deeply suspicious and infuriatingly triumphant.

“Well? Where is our good friend Master Wong?”

Stephen held up a hand. Something was not right. The Sanctum was on high alert, he could sense it, in the walls, in the air, in the way the relics around him seemed to vibrate and hum in unrest –

“Something’s wrong.”

Loki’s senses were tingling too. On reflex, his soft leathers shifted into his battle armour. “Where did you last see him?”

In the blink of an eye, they were back at the dojo in the basement.

“Wong!”

Stephen pawed the side of his friend’s neck, his racing heart only slowing down when he felt the pattering of Wong’s carotid artery pulsating away underneath his fingers, slow but steady. Wong was still alive, at least –

Where was Yon-Rogg?

Stephen quickly skimmed over Wong’s hands, and true enough, Wong’s sling ring had been removed. His heart sank.

“He’s quite badly injured,” Loki murmured. His hands began to glow a soft, gold-flecked green.

Soon Wong was enveloped in a dome of healing seidr as Loki concentrated to heal the myriad of internal injuries. “Go. I’ll find you later.” Gone was his haughty demeanour, in its place a warrior’s stance. “And be careful.”

Stephen nodded. “You too.”

He vanished, only to reappear a heartbeat later on the upper floor landing. He opened his palm and plucked one of the short tufts of blond hair he had stolen earlier from Yon-Rogg during their sparring session.

A few mudras and a quick locating spell later, Stephen found himself standing in the one place he should have probably looked at first.

Yon-Rogg was still perusing the relics, going from one display case to another.

Stephen cleared his throat loudly. “Commander.”

Yon-Rogg turned. Stephen noted in alarm the gleaming green-silver armour he was wearing, the green star at the centre of his chest taunting and malevolent-looking.

“I told you. What you are seeking is not here.”

Yon-Rogg gazed at him steadily. Just when Stephen thought he was going to speak, he pounced.

If Stephen thought Yon-Rogg was strong before, he was in for a rude surprise. Suited up, Yon-Rogg was damn near unstoppable, his attacks ten times quicker, the sheer force of his blows double that.  

Yon-Rogg’s arm snaked around his neck and Stephen was fast to slip his wrists in front of his neck before Yon-Rogg could tighten his arm into a proper chokehold.

“Where is it?” he hissed in Stephen’s ear.

“Where’s _what?”_ In classic Stephen Strange move, he rammed his head backward, slamming the back of his skull into what was hopefully Yon-Rogg’s nose but Yon-Rogg was no fool. He swiftly ducked his head out of the way.

“Fool me once, fool me twice, Doctor. Shame on you over and _over!”_ Yon-Rogg twisted at his waist, swinging his leg out in an insanely wide arc; the kick caught the side of Stephen’s face and it threw him heavily onto the ground.

With a grunt, Stephen leaped back to his feet despite the screaming protests of his muscles; and countered with a kick of his own, but it swooped harmlessly over the Kree’s head as he ducked just in time. But Stephen was ready, and a golden whip lassoed around Yon-Rogg’s neck and pulled.

With a savage grin, “Now we’re talking – ” Yon-Rogg’s forearms turned blue and like a knife cutting through butter, his vambrace sliced through Stephen’s magic and he was free once more.

Yon-Rogg lashed out a leg which caught Stephen at the knees, sweeping him off his feet; and as his knees buckled, Yon-Rogg twisted his body sideways just as Stephen made an instinctive grab at him to keep from falling; and they unceremoniously crashed to the ground in a heap.

The Kree brought a heavy arm down with an elbow strike right smack in Stephen’s temple that had him seeing _stars_.

Yon-Rogg flexed his elbow to strike him again but The Cloak wrapped itself around the alien’s face in a suffocating headlock, and Stephen disengaged from their entangled limbs and hoisted himself off the ground.

Stephen clapped his hands together once and spread them out in a summoning spell.

A tinny, high-pitched sound, as shrill as a screaming kettle, whistled through the air. Yon-Rogg turned around just a heartbeat too late, and before he knew what hit him, the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak were already splinting every synovial joint in his body.

The heavy armour the Kree wore did not deter the Babylonian device of torture one iota; the more Yon-Rogg struggled, the more determined the sentient relic became, and its sentient magic and brute strength soon had Yon-Rogg immobilised in a grotesque tangle of disjointed limbs and deformed appendages, just like Kaecilius had been once upon a time.

Stephen climbed to his feet, his head ringing from the repeated blows to his skull. He could now add a concussion to his long list of injuries. He was so not going to be pleasant company tonight at the ball since alcohol was clearly out of the question, and he sorely needed a drink right about now.

Now he just had to pluck Wong’s sling ring out of the alien’s slimy fingers, lock him up in the Mirror Dimension, and tweak it until it was the size of a compact powder, see how he liked his C-53 prison then –

A loud, creaky sound startled him out of his dazed, costly reverie; it was the sound of metal grating against ancient metal.

_That’s not…possible._

Yon-Rogg’s Magnitron Gauntlets flared to life and slowly but surely, the repelling magnetic force was fast neutering the restraints the ancient relic was exerting on his joints.

As the magnetic forcefield expanding from his very core pushed the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak outward, the ancient relic creaked and screamed as the forces began to pull the millennia-old metal hinges apart, physically breaking the magical bonds using brute strength.

And they snapped.

With a flick of Yon-Rogg’s magnetic wrist, the deadly pieces of metal changed their trajectories in mid-air, and before Stephen knew it, they were flying at the speed of light straight at him.

Stephen conjured a giant shield just in time before the shards slammed into it in rapid succession, the sounds they made upon striking his Mandala ricocheting off the walls like gunfire.

And Stephen gasped in agony as a stray shard of metal buried itself in his side; he had been too focused shielding his front, he had left his sides exposed.

He teleported himself away, but found that he could not go farther than the corridor immediately outside the Relic Room.

_Fuck._

Blood was pouring out from an open gash in between his left hipbone and left ribcage. Every time he breathed, he could feel the metal grate against a rib; he did not think it had hit any vital organ, the spleen at most, but it _hurt_ all the same.

A hulking figure emerged from the Relic Room and loomed over him.

“I’m not one for sentiment, Doctor, but we could have gone far.” Yon-Rogg tsk-ed. “Such a shame.”

Despite his predicament, Stephen snorted back a laughter. “You’re on a fool’s run, Yon-Rogg.”

“You will never find it.” _Not in this timeline._

“Oh, the where is hardly important.” Yon-Rogg rolled his eyes. “What matters is you know the when. And you’re going to help me get it.”

“Yeah? How’d you figure that ou –” Yon-Rogg’s boot came down on his side right where the shard was still sticking out and he pressed down on it and Stephen _screamed_

A blast of raw seidr barrelled into Yon-Rogg, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying some twenty feet down the corridor.

“Loki?” Stephen thought dimly.

_“Stay down, Strange. You’re hurt.”_

A flash of green flitted across his peripheral vision.

Familiar hands pawed his shoulders and pulled him back inside the Relic Room.

“Wong…” Stephen murmured. “You’re okay?”

“More or less,” Wong grunted. His face was still pale and there were open, bleeding wounds on his head. Noticing Stephen’s line of gaze, he gave a tight smile. “Loki healed my insides first. He would have healed these too had he not heard you scream like a girl and panicked.”

“Need to get…back out there…” Stephen mumbled. “Loki…”

“You’re bleeding like a pig from a piece of metal the size of a shoehorn embedded in your belly. For life-prolonging purposes, I suggest we get that out and patch you up first?”

“The Time Stone…”

“Warded.”

“Not…enough…”

“We’ll get to it soon enough, now will you shut up and let me work?”

“Love you too, Wong.”

____________________________________________

 

Yon-Rogg seemed delighted that he was now fighting someone equivalent to his level. Loki’s Asgardian strength and speed promised a more even playing ground and there was something about his new opponent that Yon-Rogg found intriguing, something different, yet achingly familiar –

Swift like the wind, Loki pounced, his daggers glinting as he lunged for Yon-Rogg’s throat, but at the very last moment, Yon-Rogg sidestepped out of the way; with lightning speed he thrust his fist forward, but to his surprise, it caught only air as Loki leaped out of the way and flash-stepped on Yon-Rogg’s knee, onto his shoulder, using it as a fulcrum to flip in the air.

And before Yon-Rogg knew it, a dagger plunged into his shoulder blade. He hissed.

With as much force as he could muster, Yon-Rogg blindly lashed an arm in a wide arc behind his back where he knew Loki was still standing, and he could hear him gasp as it smacked into his waist; Yon-Rogg snaked one arm around Loki’s waist and pulled him forward, his other hand grappling for the hilt of the dagger sticking out of his back.

Loki would have hit the ground harder had he not broken his fall with his outstretched hands, but the pain shooting up his wrists had him wonder if he had not broken them. He was about to turn, when Yon-Rogg slammed the hilt of his own dagger against the back of his knee joint and Loki cried out in pain as he fell forward again.

He heard the whoosh of a fist aiming for the side of his temple and Loki teleported from underneath the Kree at the last second, reappearing behind him. Loki slammed the fleshy part of his palm into the back of Yon-Rogg’s neck with such force that would have snapped his vertebrae had he been human, and used the other hand to slap Yon-Rogg’s forearm hard enough to drop his dagger; Loki swooped down to retrieve it by the hilt.

“Hands off my dagger, Kree!”

The Starforce uniform was made of a metal so hard Loki’s dagger would not have penetrated it had he not reinforced his blade with his own seidr. He plunged it into the exposed base of Yon-Rogg’s neck where it was not protected by his armour.

“And hands off my husband!” Loki raged silently in his head.

Blue blood spurted from the wound, but Loki’s triumph did not last long; in a matter of seconds the blood stopped flowing and the wound scabbed over.

Advanced genetics, Loki realised, cursing silently in his head.

Yon-Rogg had had enough.

His fists and forearms began to glow a menacing blue.

With the speed of lightning, Loki lifted his shields just in time to protect his body but the sheer force of the photon blast lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall.

As Loki lay dazed on the floor, his ears ringing from the impact, his hands began to tingle.

The residual energy from the photon blast still lingered in the air around him.

There was no mistaking it.

_What is this?_

He had felt this power before.

_No._

He had wielded it.

He had died for it.

_It can’t be._

Yon-Rogg walked over slowly to him.

 _“Loki, get up.”_ Stephen urged.

But Loki could not, for the life of him, respond –

A shadow loomed as Yon-Rogg towered over him.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

Where there was malice just a few moments ago, in his golden eyes now there was only avid curiousity.

“Who are _you?”_ Yon-Rogg crouched down and gazed at him openly.

_“Loki, what are you doing?”_

Stephen was shouting in his head now, but Loki could not for the life of him _move_

“You are not human.” Yon-Rogg searched his face, and wonder quickly turned to glee, way too much glee for Loki’s liking – “You’ve been near it. You’ve held it.”

Yon-Rogg’s nose was now an inch away from his face, so close Loki could see the flecks of blue in his golden irises. “You smell of it.”

“So do you,” Loki said dimly.

 _“Interesting,”_ Yon-Rogg murmured, and before Loki knew it, the Kree’s lips were on his, coarse and dry and blistering _hot_ –

_“Loki!!!”_

And thousands upon thousands of images rushed through his mind as every ounce of Loki’s seidr rallied behind the sudden intrusion into his head, counterattacking by extracting Yon-Rogg’s memories and it _hurt_

_Yon-Rogg cocking a pistol, aiming it at a woman sprawled on her back in the middle of a scorching desert_

_“The energy core, where is it?” Memory-Yon-Rogg said, his voice echoing double in the deafening, dizzying acoustics of Loki’s brain._

He had seen that woman before, had seen images of her in the footages of the final battle against Thanos

_“You mean that energy core?” the woman gestured toward the engine of the grounded plane._

_She fired, and the engine exploded in a bright, blue supernova, throwing both Carol Danvers and Yon-Rogg violently backward_

_The blast radius of the exploding engine was vast, and the raw power of The Tesseract from the lightspeed engine still coursed through his veins, still seared every fibre of his being, despite not having been at the epicentre of the blast_

The pain in Loki’s head intensified as the memory shifted, and now Loki was standing on level ground in an upside-down world, or downside-up depending on how one looked at it

Memory-Yon-Rogg stood before an imposing figure; it was a carbon copy of himself, only that his alter ego’s hair was grey, his face seasoned with age, yet it still bore the same cruel expression

Oh, but his eyes…his eyes were different now, they were green, as green as Loki’s own

Yon-Rogg’s knees were shaking, why were they shaking? Was he not only talking to himself?

_“Please, Your Intelligence..”_

_“Please?” Older Yon-Rogg sneered. “Please? Are you begging?”_

_“For your worthless life?”_

_Memory-Yon-Rogg flinched, true terror in his eyes._

_“Bring us the core…and the girl.”_

The pain was excruciating.

Did Stephen see this? Did Stephen see all this when Yon-Rogg kissed him?

Loki could feel himself losing his grasp on consciousness; he knew not what Yon-Rogg was seeing in his mind’s eye.

Was he seeing Asgard? The Void?

His children?

No, Yon-Rogg was looking for something specific. Something old.

Something he borrowed. Something blue.

The Tesseract.

 _I don’t have it_ , Loki thought dimly.

Yet the disgusting lips would not let him go; rough, unfamiliar hands were holding his head up against the wall, right in the depression his skull had left on the Loki-sized crater where he had slammed into the wall.

_I don’t have it._

And the rush of memories stopped, the vision abruptly cut off. Loki slumped sideways and collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Through his half-lidded eyes, he saw giant golden Mandalas slam into Yon-Rogg’s chest one after the other, knocking him backward.

“Step away from him,” he dimly heard a familiar voice say.

_Stephen._

The pain in his head was receding, but the darkness still beckoned.

_Stephen’s here._

“What have you done to him?” The Sorcerer Supreme demanded, his fists raised, his fiery Mandalas at the ready.

“What I did to you.” At Stephen’s stunned look, Yon-Rogg began to chuckle. “Did you not realise?”

“We the Krees are pioneers in memory extraction and manipulation, Doctor.”

“Forty years ago, we would have needed to hook you up to machines and wires and it was just –” Yon-Rogg winced, “too much of a hassle. Now?”

He licked his lips delicately, suggestively. Stephen felt sickened.

Yon-Rogg turned his attention once again toward the unmoving figure on the floor.

“I don’t need you, Doctor,” he said softly. “This one is just fine, I think. He’s strong enough to wield the Time Stone, _and_ he can help me locate The Tesseract. He seems to have quite the affinity for it.”

Yon-Rogg was still looking at Loki in wonder.

“Your…husband, I presume? Beautiful wedding. Congratulations.” He smirked. “And what beautiful children too.”

Yon-Rogg aimed his glowing fist at Loki. His voice was purring, his request smooth as silk. “Take me to the Eye.”

Stephen remained silent.

“Unlike you, he can probably withstand the full brunt of the photon blast. It might not kill him like it would have you, but I can assure you it _will_ hurt like a mother,” Yon-Rogg promised. “Strange C-53 saying. But I like it.”

He chuckled.

Without warning, he aimed his other fist at the side wall and blasted. Where there was once a priceless painting from the Renaissance period, there was now a hole in the wall the size of a satellite dish.

Loki lay unmoving, likely unconscious. He would have teleported by now if he could.

With one hand, Yon-Rogg effortlessly scooped Loki up and flipped him like a ragdoll across the back of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

Yon-Rogg stared at Stephen, his alien eyes dead and empty. His voice was once again soft, lulling. “Now take me to the Eye.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are deleted scenes on Youtube of Yon-Rogg coming face-to-face with the Supreme Intelligence, who takes on the persona of someone you most admire. And Yon-Rogg most admires - himself. 
> 
> Appreciate the kudoses and comments, guys. They keep me going, really. Thank you. <3


	10. Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

“Drop the alien, Alien.”

Stephen’s head whipped to the side. “Stark!”

“Hey, Buddy.” Fully-armoured in Mark VII, Tony landed just a few feet away, his repulsor gauntlets glowing and ready to fire, as was his tri-laser system.

“Harm a single hair on that precious head and you will answer to Thor Odinson, the King of Asgard, also known as the Fearsome and Wrathful God of Thunder!” Tony caught Stephen’s deadly glare not a moment too soon – “And him too, of course, the ah…Lord Husband, the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth!”

“You’re amusing,” Yon-Rogg smirked. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks! I wasn’t wearing it when we first met, was I?” Tony’s tone may be light-hearted, but there was no mistaking the subtle nuance in his tight voice; he was _pissed_. “So it was all a play, huh? When all you really wanted was to get into our Good Doctor’s skirts?”

“And who better to help me do that than the great Anthony Stark?” Yon-Rogg winked. “Quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?”

“What, your Tinder not working or something? Too many left-swipes? I’m not surprised. With that attitude? And that seventies hairstyle? Urgh. I bet you even kiss funny,” Tony taunted.  

_“…talk too much...”_

A familiar inside voice rippled through the acoustics of Stephen’s mind.

 _“Loki?”_ The connection had been too silent and Stephen had been trying to reach him ever since he collapsed, _“Loki, talk to me.”_

For all appearance, Loki was dead to the world, pale-faced and limp, the only thing holding him up being Yon-Rogg’s arm around his waist.

_“Get me away from him, Stephen…hurts…”_

_“Tony’s been trying but he can’t get a clear shot, bastard’s using you as a shield.”_

_“Remember the…Orri Manoeuvre? You’re seen it twice, surely you’ve…caught the technique?”_

The Orri Mano – oh, Loki’s translocation spell, Stephen recalled in dismay. The tricky spell that had been the cause of a great many nightmare just a few years ago…the spell with which Loki had given himself up to the slaughter, to save Stephen and Stian from a psychopathic voodoo sorcerer.

Stephen’s stomach twinged painfully at the memory. _“Yes?”_ he replied uncertainly.

 _“Got anything sharp on you?”_ Without waiting for an answer, Loki jabbered away, as if he feared he would get cut off at any second, _“Axilla’s the weak spot in the suit. Keep him bleeding as long as you can.”_

Stephen inhaled deeply. _“You trust me?”_

_“Just don’t leave my kidneys behind, Strange.”_

_“I’ll donate one of mine, don’t worry.”_

Loki chuckled, but his gasp of pain carried across the connection. _“Loki?”_

_“Anytime you’re ready, Doctor. Being this close to him…feel like my head’s going to explode...”_

That threw all doubt out the window, and Stephen drew a determined breath. _“On the count of one, two –”_

Tony still had his palm out, his repulsor beam just waiting for the right time and the right signal to fire. His eyes widened when Stephen disappeared from next to him in a poof, only for Loki to take his place a heartbeat later; Tony caught him as his knees buckled, the only thing stopping Loki’s full weight from pulling them both onto the ground being his suit. “Oh, _shit_ , you okay?”

“You’re too loud, Stark,” Loki hissed against the pain hammering in his head.

Taken unawares, Yon-Rogg screamed as Stephen rammed a conjured knife imbued with an anticoagulating spell right into the half-centimeter space at his armpit that allowed the laxity of the shoulder joint, where it lacked the vibranium-like metal the rest of his suit was fortified with.

Blood as blue as indigo splattered to the floor in a downpour, and would have stained Stephen’s boots had he not already teleported back to Loki’s side where Tony had propped him up against the wall.

Tony had already flown to engage Yon-Rogg in combat, but in his rage and agony, Yon-Rogg was blindly firing his photon blasts left, right and center.

A particularly savage beast of a blast was coming straight at them, and Stephen summoned his shields; even through his Mandalas, he could feel the overwhelming heat of the blast and perspiration began to trickle down the back of his neck.

The raw, newly-healed wound in his side throbbed as he struggled; the longer Yon-Rogg kept at it, the harder it was to keep his shields up. He could feel the magic eroding away little by little with each passing second.

From behind him, he could sense Loki trying to rise.

"Loki, stay down.” He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as he fought against the sheer exertion.

Of course, Loki ignored him, and in the next instant, Stephen opened his eyes to see the green of Loki’s seidr merging with his Mandala to form a fiercely beautiful latticework of protective magical shield.

“His photon blasts, they’re powered by the Tesseract. Your shields won’t hold for long,” Loki murmured in his ear.

“Loki, go home.”

“What?”

“Go back to Asgard.”

“No. Not happening.”

“Loki,” he pleaded.

“I won’t leave you,” Loki said, serene as anything.

“Loki, will you _please_ just listen –”

“Is this the part where you say if I don’t do as you say, that I’m going to die? Am I to meet my dear Sister, the Goddess of Death today? Cos if I am, you’d better say it so. Jinx it, so it doesn’t happen.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Loki.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you. Not when your shield is as good as having no shield at all.”

“Ouch, that hurts.”

“Sorry, darling.” Loki threw caution to the wind and pecked Stephen quickly on the cheek. “So what’s the plan now?”

“We need to lure him somewhere he can’t get out of.” Stephen lowered his shield slightly, only to lift it again when a stray blast nearly sliced the top of his head cleanly off. “The Vault.”

Loki ducked. He cursed when Tony’s laser damn near burned his shoulder. He stepped in deeper into the dome of protection conferred by their hybrid shield. “Isn’t that where you keep the Time Stone?”

“Exactly. How can he resist?”

 “Tony!!!” Stephen bellowed over the roar of repulsor beams and photon blasts. “TONY!!!”

“What?!”

“Draw him away from us, would you?”

“Aww, I thought you wanted to share!”

Yon-Rogg was in a frenzy. He began to realise that he would not stop bleeding unless the knife was out, and with a roar, he pawed at the wound and tried to pull the knife out –

Stephen seized the chance, and hooked an elbow around his husband’s arm – “Come on!”

______________________________________________________

They reappeared in the Relic Room. Loki looked around him in confusion. “Huh? Why have you brought us here?”

“The entrance to the vault is through the Relic Room. That was what he was looking for. I guess he lifted that from my head.” After a beat, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine.” Loki waved a shooing hand. His head was much clearer now that he was out of Yon-Rogg’s immediate radius of reach. “Damn memory-sucking alien vampire.”

“And you let him kiss you.”

If Loki’s looks could kill – “Oh but you _sparred_ with him first.”

Stephen chuckled uneasily as he waved a hand to unlock a glass case. It opened to reveal a not very special-looking brazier. “Behold, the Brazier of Bom'Galiath.”

He looked relieved. To think that he had no idea what the relic was for when he first came and chucked it at Kaecilius’ head in one of his earliest battles like a piece of rock. “Yon-Rogg didn’t know he was looking for this.”

Being a curious creature by nature, Loki momentarily forgot about the appropriateness of his husband kissing another alien other than him, and peered in. At Stephen’s touch, the brazier burned golden and hot, but strangely there were no coals in it.

Stephen ran his thumb along the underside of one of the handles and Loki frowned when blood began to well; Stephen let his blood drip into the open mouth of the brazier – “You too, Loki.”

The handle was as sharp as a razor. Loki let his blood drip into the brazier just as his husband had done, and he watched in fascination as the golden fire began to turn red.

Stephen muttered a spell under his breath, and the fire soared with a thunder-like roar, its sheer heat forcing Loki to recoil and shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, he found himself standing in a vault-like chamber with no doors.

It was pentagon-shaped, no larger than your average countryside circus tent, with walls of a dull, slate grey. It did not look imposing in the least, but when people said looks could be deceiving, they were talking about this very room.

Loki palmed the wall. It thrummed with magic underneath his palm. And he understood why. One would have to pay a blood price to enter.

“How do you get out of here?”

“With your sling ring.”

“Huh.” Loki hmm-ed. How anti-climactic. What dull people, these Masters of the Mystic Arts.

“You should have seen Odin’s vault back in old Asgard.” Memories of long ago flared to life, and Loki fought to keep his emotions in check enough to ride them out.

Odin holding his hand.

Thor and Loki. Loki and Thor.

The Casket of Ancient Winters.  His hands, blue once more.

Odin collapsing on the stairs.

Oh how hollow his voice sounded to his own ears. “His treasures.”

“Oh, with this we can.” Where Stephen had once stood in the middle of an empty room, there now stood a pedestal.

And Loki felt his breath catch in his chest, all thoughts of Asgard momentarily forgotten. He had seen the Eye of Agamotto around his husband’s neck numerous times, but the sight of the Infinity Stone never failed to steal his breath every time.

 “Good, Wong’s put the spells up in time –”

A blast of energy seared past his cheek, scorching hot and _blue_ , and Stephen jumped back in reflex; had the wall directly in front of him not been fortified with magic, the blast would have burnt a hole right through to the other side.

“Step away from the Eye, Doctor.”

Stephen raised his arms and silently walked away from the pedestal. He locked eyes with Loki who was standing still against the wall, a silent warning evident in his grey eyes.

“ _Stay out of sight_.”

As if Loki would. Not when Yon-Rogg had his fists aimed at Stephen, ready to fire at any moment.

“Yon-Rogg,” a new voice drawled from behind him, and Yon-Rogg froze.

He turned around very slowly.

An older version of Yon-Rogg now stood before him, hair as grey as the ones discolouring Stephen’s temples, eyes an unnaturally fluorescent green.

“Stand down, Yon-Rogg. You have accomplished your mission.”

“Your Intelligence?” Yon-Rogg could scarcely believe his eyes.

“You’ve got us in,” Loki said sneeringly, just as how Older Yon-Rogg had sounded in the vision.

“I seek only to serve.” Yon-Rogg bowed his head.

“Indeed, you have served us well.” Older Yon-Rogg smiled serenely. “We will take over from here.”

Yon-Rogg knelt on one knee. “I defer to your just and unparalleled wisdom, Your Intelligence.”

“You will be rewarded handsomely. Your performance here is exemplary.”

In his euphoric state, Yon-Rogg made a grab for Loki’s hand and before Loki knew it, Yon-Rogg had touched his lips to the back of his hand. “Yes, Your Intelli –” he halted in mid-sentence and his eyes widened.

“You think you can fool me, Prince?” Yon-Rogg hissed.

Just as he was about to rise to his feet, Stephen’s golden tendrils of magic suddenly wrapped themselves around him in a tight, multilayered noose. Yon-Rogg retaliated by squeezing Loki’s hand tighter.

All illusion dropped, Loki gasped as a shard of pain piked through his temples once more, and he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

“Loki!” Stephen started forward. Yon-Rogg snarled and pressed himself bodily against Loki’s huddled form, placing himself between Stephen and his husband. “No closer, or I’ll kiss him again so hard that when he comes back, he comes back _wrong_.”

Dammit, Stephen cursed inwardly. All he needed was to get to Loki so they could teleport out of there and leave Yon-Rogg to rot in this prison till the end of the world.

_Is there no end to all this?_

Yon-Rogg’s face was a mask of concentration but his eyes were smiling. In a matter of seconds, his entire form turned blue, and he grunted hoarsely as he strained to release himself; to Stephen’s utter dismay, Yon-Rogg broke free of his magical knots, just as his Magnitron Gauntlets burnt through the magic bonds of the Crimson Band of Cyttorak,

Once again, he had Loki in his grip and Yon-Rogg dragged him over to the pedestal where the Eye of Agamotto shone bright and green on its stand.

Yon-Rogg dropped Loki unceremoniously on the ground at his feet, but still far enough for Stephen to reach him before Yon-Rogg could.

“At last. The famed Eye of Agamotto.”

With glee, Yon-Rogg pawed at the Relic he had been seeking; he screamed almost instantaneously as the Eye burned into his hand, searing the flesh right off his palm, and the acrid smell of roasting meat filled the air in a nauseating miasma of noxious carbonaceous fumes.

Good old Eldritch Magic, Stephen thought wildly. The ever-reliable Wong may have been complacent with shrouding the Sanctum in plain sight, but protecting the Eye of Agamotto was an onus deeply ingrained in every Guardian, and Wong’s wards seemed to hold perfectly fine.

“Lift the spell!” Yon-Rogg snarled. He aimed his fist in Stephen’s direction.

“Kill me or don’t, the spell will hold even after I’m dead.”

“Is that right?” A strange calmness settled over Yon-Rogg’s golden-blue eyes.

Yon-Rogg scooped Loki around the waist and hauled him off the floor. Loki’s head lolled against his chest, but Yon-Rogg pressed his fist against Loki’s temple, holding his head up. “Lift. It.”

Yon-Rogg’s fist began to glow. “Or I’ll blow his brains out.”

Stephen’s blood ran cold.

“Let him go.” His eyes hardened and narrowed to mere slits. “Let him go and I’ll lift it.”

“No can do, Doctor. Your Prince is my compass, you see.”

“Take me instead.” At Yon-Rogg’s raised eyebrow, Stephen pressed on. “Surely you’ve deduced as much, having been in both our heads, that I am better suited to wield the Time Stone. I am its Guardian after all.”

Stephen said as cajolingly as possible. “I can even take you back to the point where you can save your lover.”

Yon-Rogg stared at him, stupefied.

“Una, was it? Her name?” Stephen asked gently.

And for the first time since Yon-Rogg arrived, Stephen saw the barest glimmer of an emotion that was not fury or malice in the piercing, golden-blue eyes.

At long last,

“You’ve convinced me, Doctor,” Yon-Rogg said softly.

“Put Loki down, and I’ll undo the protective spell.”

Yon-Rogg’s eyes did not leave Stephen even when he made his way down the pedestal, Loki’s useless legs slapping against the three small steps as Yon-Rogg hauled him along. Loki immediately slid down the wall onto his haunches, his head lolling, his eyes unfocused.

Stephen walked slowly, approaching The Eye.

His hands moved through a few Mudras faster than the eye could see, and the Eye of Agamotto glowed a bright purple, before it became dimmer and dimmer, before returning to its natural state as the wards protecting it collapsed.

Yon-Rogg made a run up the stairs again onto the pedestal, just as Stephen ran down to where Loki was lying on his side against the wall.

_“Come on, Loki.”_

Stephen wrapped his arms around Loki’s back to lift him up, and Loki planted his chin heavily into Stephen’s shoulder. He felt like Thor had taken Mjolnir to his head, so intense and unrelenting was the pain hammering away at his skull.

They heard a loud crunch as Yon-Rogg crushed the Eye of Agamotto with one hand –

_“The Time Stone…”_

_“It’s a decoy. Wong’s hidden it somewhere else.”_

Loki’s eyes flew open, and they widened as they caught sight of something beyond Stephen’s shoulder –

And Yon-Rogg bellowed in rage, “Doctor!!”

“Stephen, move!” Loki shoved Stephen roughly to the side with one hand, and with a sleight of the other, he called on his magic from deep within him, reaching for the one place where he knew he held the heart of his realm, his once-people

Loki’s skin turned as blue as the sky, his eyes redder than rubies

And the Casket of Ancient Winters roared to life.

The ice blue of the Casket warred with the blue of Yon-Rogg’s photon blast as the entire vault became engulfed in a hail of ice and frost amid a deafening roar. For what felt like eternity, Stephen had no idea who was winning – being so close to the relic, he could not see beyond a feet in front of him from the blinding whiteout.

The Casket kept pumping its ancient magic, using Loki as the conduit, and just as Stephen’s shield around himself was about to disintegrate from the sheer might of Jotunheim, the blizzard dwindled to a drizzling shower of ice flakes and hail, before completely dying out.

The roar in Stephen’s ears only subsided when he caught sight of Loki, once again in his Aesir form and the Casket stowed away in his pocket universe, breathing hard like he had just run a marathon.

“I should have just stayed home,” Loki rasped, pale-faced and sweaty. “I wouldn’t have minded staying mad at you for a day longer.”

Despite the dark words, Loki leaned in readily into Stephen’s arms.

“Tell me he’s actually dead,” Stephen pleaded when he finally released Loki from his embrace.

Loki stared at the human-shaped popsicle in front of them. The ice storm had pushed Yon-Rogg onto his knees, and with his arms held out wide as if anticipating a hug, his lips twisted in a grotesque, half-grimace half-smile, the Kree looked almost harmless if not for the ice encasing his entire body.

“I doubt it. He’s like a cockroach. How easy is it to kill a Midgardian cockroach?” Loki’s heart was still racing in his chest.

“Get us out of here, Stephen. I feel sticky. I need a long bath before the ball tonight.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Hold on.” Stephen walked toward the Kree-shaped ice sculpture.

They could not get out of the vault soon enough, and here Stephen was, dilly-dallying. “What are you doing?” Loki asked warily.

“I have to get Wong’s sling ring back, he could escape the vault otherwise once he thaws –”

Stephen knelt down, completely unaware that Yon-Rogg’s fist was beginning to glow a Tesseract blue, distinctive against the ice blue of the Ancient Winters.

Loki’s heart leapt to his throat.

“Stephen, NO!”

One second Stephen was crouching in front of their frozen enemy, the next he was standing against the wall right where he had been standing with Loki just moments ago. His fingers tingled with the residual magic he recognized as Loki’s. “What the hell –?” He whirled.

The Orri Manoeuvre may have pushed Stephen out of harm’s way prompt and proper, but there was simply no time for Loki to get his shields up before Yon-Rogg fired

“Loki!”

and Loki caught the photon blast at point-blank right in the midsection, at the same time he drove his dagger with such force through Yon-Rogg’s frost-crusted forehead that it lodged itself right between the Kree’s eyes whose pupils were blown black with fury and terror, the tip of Loki’s dagger being the very last thing he saw.

The sheer thrust drove the tip of the seidr-reinforced dagger all the way out the back of his skull.

The blue fist flickered, and died.

With a soft gasp, Loki fell back onto his rear. “Oh.”

Stephen caught him as he tilted –

“Stephen.” Loki looked up in wonder.

Stephen held him upright with an arm. His breath hitched painfully in his chest at the sight of Loki’s tattered middle; no part of his torso was spared. What used to be perfect, smooth skin was now a collage of charred skin, and flayed, bloodied flesh.

Stephen’s other hand ghosted over his husband’s abdomen in horror. “Oh, Loki…”

Footsteps thundered their way. “Strange!”

Through vision rendered red by adrenaline, Stephen saw Wong supporting a hobbling Tony, with half his helmet blown off his face. The said half of his face was bathed in red, and apart from eyes swollen shut and colourful in all shades of livid purple, one leg was also bent at so awkward an angle there was no way it was not broken.

They stared in horror at the scene awaiting them.

“Wong…” he breathed out. Wong was here, Wong could surely help –

_“Bastard…just won’t…die…”_

Blood trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth and down the line of Loki’s jaw as he tried to speak, eyes too bright, too green with unspeakable pain. Before Stephen's very eyes, they began to dim, lashes fluttering as Loki began to lose consciousness.

“No. No, no, no, Loki –”

Despite the screaming protests of his muscles, Stephen mustered all his remaining strength and hefted Loki in his arms. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes. No. Not yet.

“Wong,” he gasped again, sounding strangely thick-tongued. “Asgard, _quickly!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orri is the bad guy in The Amendment.
> 
> Why is Yon-Rogg so strong and near indestructible? Because Captain Marvel is set in the seventies. And like good wine, he gets finer with age. 
> 
> And because if it were up to me, Loki would get whumped all eight ways to Sunday all the time. Sorry not sorry


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, sometimes you can't do much but talk, and wait, and talk some more.

“Fancy Man, what did you _do?”_ Valkyrie shrieked. “I thought you were only going to talk!”

“Not now, Valkyrie.” Stephen carefully laid Loki down on the trolley in the middle of the Healing Hall’s trauma receiving chamber.

A flock of Healers appeared out of nowhere, all ready to attend to their designated tasks; this was Code Red of the highest priority. At the sight of the blood dribbling out of Loki’s mouth, a Healer was quick to insert a nasogastric tube through the nose, before another swiftly covered half of Loki’s face with an oxygen mask the moment her colleague was done. 

Wong deposited Tony onto another table, who quickly waved him off. “You’d better see to Loki, he doesn’t look good – ”

Tony grimaced as a Healer began to work on his broken leg. It was clearly a fracture of the tibia, and possibly fibula as well. He had felt and heard it the moment Yon-Rogg stomped on his leg, knocking his human bones out of alignment in the middle of a tussle.

Valkyrie took one look at the weeping eschar and bloody mess that was Loki’s entire abdomen, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on ends. “I’m getting Thor.”

Stephen paid her no attention. He studied the vital signs that were fast scrolling down the holographic panel in front of him in a list of numbers and pascals and beats per minute.  At least, Loki’s vital signs were holding for now.

The second and third-degree burns on Loki’s stomach were the least of his worries for they were largely external; Yon-Rogg’s photon blast packed enough explosive power to blast holes into walls, and Stephen knew if it had not been for the thick layer of magic Jotunn ice covering his fist, there would not be anything left of Loki to work on, let alone save.

The deadly gamma rays and the devastating damage they could and may very well have caused internally was Stephen’s one true fear right now.  “Let’s get to work, Wong.”

_____________________________________________

As the biggest benefactor of Asgard’s Medical and Surgical Units, Tony was given his own room with a nice view overlooking the ocean but he had yet to step a foot in it, literally and figuratively. His broken leg was in a splint, the fracture set and fixed with magic to his utter delight, but his fascination with the Asgardian Healers’ orthopaedics skills dampened somewhat the moment he was stable enough to jump off his bed to hobble next door where Loki was resting in recovery.

“I did this,” Tony whispered, aghast. “I’m so stupid.”

“Tony.”

Tony was still staring at the unmoving figure lying on the bed. There were more tubes going in and coming out of him than Tony could count.

Loki’s digestive tract was a mess. A painful-looking tube in his nose was keeping his stomach decompressed, and to give his gut a rest, Stephen had overseen the insertion of a feeding line into a central vein in his neck, careful not to place it at the same site where the previous line had been, back when Loki was sleeping his long unnatural sleep. Two bags of blood were running simultaneously through a cannula in each arm.

“If you know of any doctors, alien, human, whoever you think can help, you gotta let me know. Alternative medicine? Homeotherapy? Spiritual healing? Anything, man. I’ll get them to you.”

“Tony. Shush.”

“Shouldn’t have brought him to you.”

“It’s done. The damage is done.” Stephen’s voice was flat.

“I shouldn’t have brought him to you in the first place. Fury was right. Steve was right. How could I have been so stupid?”

“Tony, that’s enough,” Stephen said, a tad more sharply than he intended. “I can’t handle you when you’re like this. Not right now.”

He sighed and beckoned for Tony to take a seat in the empty chair on the other side of Loki’s bed. Tony still looked a little rough around the edges. He had lost Mark VII, another casualty in their fight against the Kree, but Stephen doubted that its irreplaceability was the cause of Tony’s despair.

The guilt was radiating off the man in waves.

Stephen sighed heavily. “I am to blame. I left Wong alone with the prisoner without making sure he was contained.” He braved a glance at his fellow Guardian who had spoken little ever since he pronounced Loki out of immediate danger a few hours ago.

“Wong was overcome in my absence and his sling ring stolen, allowing Yon-Rogg to gain access to his power suit, and just about every room in the Sanctum.” His voice quietened. And the biggest mistake of all,

“I let Loki get too close.”

“You were bleeding to death on the Sanctum floor.” Wong spoke up from where he was sitting on the couch, staring vacantly into space. “None of us, least of all, Loki, expected that he would be so overcome by the mental hijacking thing.”

“Do we know why he was so affected by it?” Tony frowned. For all his alien strength and durability, Loki was putty in the Kree’s hands.

Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know yet.” Wong and Tony looked at him expectantly. “What?”

“He kissed you too,” Wong stated flatly.

“Yeah and I didn’t feel a thing. I thought I was the one pulling things out of his brain.”

“Well, never let it be said that Loki isn’t the sensitive one in your relationship.” Tony muttered.

Stephen jolted suddenly. “The body’s still in the vault.”

Wong waved his worries away. “I’ve called in some people from Kamar-Taj to assist us. Your Director Fury is sending some men over too to recover the body.”

Tony nodded in direct confirmation, and at the mention of the director’s name, his face darkened with barely-concealed fury.

“Fury’s gonna get it from me this time. Oh yes he is. He’s not going to like what I have to say about this.” Never mind the fact that Fury had warned him that Yon-Rogg was bad news right from the start -

Stephen only looked at his friend dully. What the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. liked or did not like did not register at all on the list of things he cared about right now.

“I should have made him tell me the whole backstory. Shit, Strange, I had no idea he could have done this much damage, or I wouldn’t have sent him to you.” Tony was back on the subject again; it must be his generalised anxiety disorder talking.

“He was a soldier, Stark. And like any good soldier, he was fighting for something he believed in. That ideal got him to attempt mass genocide and commit a few murders along the way, something most of us here could probably relate to," Stephen said numbly.

He remembered the glimpse he caught of a face, unfamiliar yet no less angelic, framed by blond hair so fine it gleamed. “He had someone he loved once.”

Speaking of someone he loved –

“He should have just let me take the hit.” Stephen massaged his forehead. It felt hot and dry, like he was running a fever, but Stephen knew better. “Why? Why would he do such a thing?”

“Damn it, Stephen, you know why!” Tony snapped. “If the photon blast had hit you, you would have _died_. Instantly.”

“You don’t know that.” 

Stephen had replayed the moment over and over obsessively in his head. If Loki weren’t so grievously injured, Stephen would have no qualm about wringing his neck. 

“He could have done a million other things, could have blasted me to the side with his seidr, or lifted his shields first and then staked the guy, or teleported the hell out of there.” He repeated, “He should have just let me take the hit.”

Tony stared at him agape. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Wong sat up straighter with interest.

“Your husband saved your life, and you’re complaining about how he did it?”

Tony was not having it, no _sir_ –

“And what about you huh?” He stabbed a finger in the air, imagining it was Stephen’s chest. “You could have approached the bastard from the back, the side, hell you could have even come at him from above!"

"But out of the million other things you could have done, you did the one thing you were not supposed to do. I personally would have cut off his arm with the biggest axe I could find, and it doesn’t even have to be a magical one.”

Tony was on a right rampage, and he was showing no sign of backing down. “If I see Pepper in front of an on-coming car, you think I’ve got time to think my options over? I would almost certainly do what automatically comes to me.”

“Push her out of the way?” Stephen guessed quietly, because that was certainly what he would do for Loki, and what Loki had certainly done for him.

“Blast the car out into the orbit, but close enough.” Rampage over, Tony sank tiredly back in his chair. “Unlike you, Doctor, I don’t have the luxury of foresight.”

Tony leaned his head back against the headrest tiredly. His whole body hurt.

“You peeked into the future and saw all the things Loki could have done differently, and yet you can’t accept it when he did the one thing we ALL knew he would do. Because that’s just the way he is.”

“When it’s someone he loves, he just throws himself into the fire.” His brown eyes were dull as they focused on something on the ceiling. “Just ask Thor.”

___________________________________________

Poor Stian. In his young life he had seen horrors few of his peers had and would ever be subjected to. If Stephen found this difficult every time, he could only imagine what it must be like for their young son.

Yet Stian was taking it in stride. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs surrounding Loki’s bed, Stian sat in the little space next to the pillow Loki's head was resting on. “How long is Pappa going to sleep for this time, Daddy?”

“Until he is ready to wake, Stian. He’s…in a bit of pain right now, so he’s sleeping it off until it doesn’t quite hurt so much.”

It was meant to comfort, but the tender-hearted Stian must have found it distressing, for his hazel eyes instantly filled with tears. “Poor Pappa.”

He sniffed. “What happened to him, Daddy?”

Stephen wrapped the blanket tighter around Aífe’s sleeping form as he mulled over his answer. “Stian, do you know what I do? And what Pappa and Uncle Thor used to do with Uncle Tony?”

“Yeah. You protect the people of earth and fight bad people whenever they come.”

That sounded about right. “Yes…and yesterday they did. And your Pappa got hurt.”

Stian curled into a tight little ball against the headboard and laid his head on the pillow. He nuzzled his head against Loki’s temple.

Loki did not so much as twitch, not even when Stian’s hair brushed against his cheek.

“He got hurt fighting the bad people?”

“Yes, and no.” Stephen hesitated. “He got hurt protecting me.”

Stephen did not know what to expect. A tantrum? A teary outburst? But Stian stayed quiet.

Finally Stian nodded, his sweet face tender with sympathetic understanding. “Pappa got hurt once when we were out riding one time.”

That was news to Stephen. “He did? When?”

Stian played absently with Loki’s hair. “This one time,” he answered vaguely. “My horse spooked, and I got thrown off. Pappa caught me and hurt his leg.”

He threw guilty looks in both his parents’ direction, as if revealing the secret would wake Loki somehow, and get his parents into another fight. “Pappa told me not to tell you. Don’t tell him I told you, Daddy, please?”

Stephen vaguely remembered a time a few months ago when Loki suddenly developed a mysterious limp, one he breezily chalked off as a muscle pull.

Come to think of it, Stian stopped riding for a while too, until Thor finally managed to bring him around to taking the reins again.

“I won’t, Stian. It’s our secret now too,” Stephen said kindly. “Thank you for telling me.”

Stian wiggled off the bed. Stephen shifted Aífe higher up the crook of his elbow to make room for his son who soon wiggled his way into his lap. “Don’t feel bad, Daddy. Pappa will be okay.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. His colour’s alright,” he announced grandly.

Stephen had to smile. “Thank you, Dr Stian Strange.”

“We’re a team, Daddy.” Stian wrapped his small arms around Stephen’s waist.

He kissed the side of his son’s head. “Yes, we are.”

_________________________________

When Loki finally opened his eyes, it was dark outside. In stark contrast, his room was bright and blindingly so, made all the brighter by the familiar presence at his side.

“Oh, Brother.” Thor was all shine and warmth and his smile was gentle, if not a little sad. “What have you done to yourself.”

“Thor,” Loki said dreamily.

“How do you feel?” Thor inquired anxiously. When Valkyrie had run into his chambers, frantic and babbling away about how her plan had gone wrong and that the Fancy Man had finally gone and lost his marbles and now his brother was dying and –

Yeah. Valkyrie had him at dying. The rest of her rant was balderdash.

Still, Loki’s condition was touch and go for a while, he was told. “Are you in any pain?”

Loki shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t – I don’t hurt anywhere, not really.”

He carefully ran a hand down his bandaged torso, afraid to touch but needing to, if only to convince himself that all his pieces were still in one piece. “Everything from my chest down feels wonderfully numb.”

“And someone’s stuffed my mouth full of cotton balls.” Loki smacked his lips in distaste. “May I have some water, Thor?”

“I’m afraid not just yet, Brother. Not till Stephen says it’s alright.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s with the children, I think he’s taken them to bed. He did not leave your side the entire day.”

“Entire day?” Loki gaped, a look of mild horror on his pale face. “Thor, your banquet!”

“Do you honestly think I’d sit around and look at women when I could be playing tug-of-war with Hela for your life yet again, Brother?”

“You’re getting good at it.” Loki had to slip that one in.

Thor socked him on the head once and hard _. “Ow!”_

“That was a compliment, Thor!” Loki protested. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“How many times, Loki?” Thor asked sadly.

Loki stared at him.

“Thor, don’t. Please.”

He flung an arm over his eyes.

“Fault my judgment if you will, but not my decision,” he mumbled. “Call it love, call it panic, but if I had to do it again, I would.”

Thor shook his head in displeasure. “Why didn’t you ask for my help? I heard from Master Wong that the opponent was exceptionally strong.”

A fellow contender in the Grandmaster’s harlequinade, the Contest of Champions, had been a Kree and Thor once saw him punch the head in of one of the other slaves down at the dungeons. It rotated the head a full hundred and eighty degrees and of course, killed the poor Skrull.

“There simply wasn’t time, Thor,” Loki said softly by way of apology. “And it caught me by surprise just as much as it did Stephen.”

Thor’s face darkened at the mention of the name.

“Do not put the blame on Stephen, Thor. He has done nothing but his best to protect me, just like he promised you.” If Thor only knew of the lengths Stephen had and nearly gone to, to do just that.

“He has saved me over and over again, Thor. If I don’t start returning the favour, the Norns might get angry,” Loki said lightly.

“Can’t you return it any other way?” Thor groused.

“If you can think of something I have in my possession that is equivalent to the value of the Sorcerer Supreme’s life, do let me know because I’m drawing a blank.”

Thor’s face turned dangerously darker. “Your life is not a commodity for trade, Loki.”

It was a touchy subject for Thor. Thanos may be dead but he would always be the elephant in the room, the monster in the night, the stealthy thief robbing their golden king of what little peace of mind their new haven in faraway Norway had brought forth.

One of these days Loki was going to rummage through his brother’s head, find the memory of himself lying dead on the floor of the Statesman, neck as brittle as a bricklayer’s wet plaster, and snuff it out.

“Thor, I’m really thirsty,” Loki lied. His throat could not be so dry, not when it was fast clogging with tears he was trying desperately to suppress. He hated causing Thor so much pain. “Can you please ask Stephen if I could have that drink now?”

Thor looked very much like he wanted to stay and argue, but the dimming of Loki’s eyes forced his hand. He relented, “Of course, Loki.”

He stood and kissed the top of Loki’s head gently. “I shall return. In the meantime, do try and get some rest.”

“What else am I going to do, Thor? Run a marathon?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, Brother. You’ve done worse.”

____________________________________________

“All the CT scans seem to show the same thing, Stephen. Dense peritoneal and pelvic adhesions so extensive there is hardly any organ that’s not involved…there is so much scar tissue inside him, it’s a jungle.”  

Christine sounded and looked extremely displeased. “You only ever see this in textbooks before the advent of anti-tuberculosis drugs when peritoneal TB was still rampant.”

The blue light filter cast a yellow hue over Christine’s features and made her brown eyes appear golden, but it did not mask her look of distress. He could tell from the thousand-mile gaze in her eyes, and the way her forehead pinched ever so slightly in an anxious frown. 

Stephen pressed his lips together to stop himself from licking his suddenly dry lips as he mulled over the meaning of Christine’s words.

“Is it worth going in to remove the adhesions?” he asked quietly.

He knew the answer, being a once-surgeon himself. It just made him feel better having something to suggest, but only marginally.

Christine shook her head slowly. “I don’t see the point. You will inadvertently cause more scarring and even more adhesions and that is one vicious cycle I do not wish to trigger. Like I said, it’s a jungle in there, and I don’t mean the Yosemite kind. We are talking Amazonian.”

She sighed heavily. “So, in the absence of symptoms of intestinal obstruction like incessant vomiting or severe pain, I suggest we leave it well alone.”

Stephen knew just what she meant, the old adage in surgery. Just because there was something they could do, it did not necessarily mean that they should do it. 

“Stephen...there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Stephen only looked at the small screen on the tablet in front of him and waited numbly for what was to come.

“The…pelvic adhesions in particular are quite bad.” _Very_ , her eyes said. “The organs are all matted together, distorting the anatomy so badly even Jack’s had trouble reading the scans.”

“And?”

Christine hesitated. “You know what I’m trying to say, Strange.”

The numbness gave way slowly but surely to dismayed disbelief.

“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Christine forced a reassuring smile, but it appeared false and overly bright. “I can book him in for a hysterosalpingogram if you want –

“No.”

“That’s the only way to see if there’s scar tissue inside the uterus, Strange, you know that.”

Stephen’s heart thumped loudly in his chest. “So what if he has any, what then? It doesn’t exactly change the management, does it?”

“Damn it, Strange, think.” Christine was done walking on eggshells. “Worst case scenario? Loki may never be able to carry another baby again.”

“And if the inside of his uterus is as smooth as a baby’s butt, would you want to risk getting him pregnant, knowing the rest of him is all matted together like superglue? Would you want to risk an ectopic pregnancy that could potentially kill him?”

Stephen fell silent. Christine was right.

“As his doctor and his friend, I have an obligation,” Christine said adamantly. "If you don’t tell him about this, I will.”

She had stood by and watched as Stephen steer his way through his marriage like he had every endeavour in his life: ruthless, decisive, precise; like it was a tumour he needed to excise.

Christine was always right. And she knew it. “It’s time to face things as a couple, Stephen. While there's still a chance."

________________________________________

Tony’s leg and face were throbbing and he was bored. He would have called his wife again, but after bugging her a hundred times, her concern had quickly turned into exasperated irritation. In the end, he assured her that he was in good hands in Asgard and that he should be on the first portal out of Norway at daybreak. He and Nick Fury needed to have a little chat after all.

Tony’s sighed. He must have played the videos of his daughter stored on his phone a thousand times over. He tossed it onto his dresser and winced when it missed and fell to the floor.

He sighed again. He wished there was alcohol to be had.

Ah well. Thor’s country, Thor’s rules.

Tony hobbled slowly to where Stephen was sitting.

“I really don’t get why you’re out here brooding anyway.” His voice carried through the open sliding doors onto the balcony outside. “If Pepper ever finds herself near-death and she survives, the only balcony you’d see me hanging out on is the one outside her room.”

The red-cloaked figure perched on the railing said nothing.

Stephen did not have the heart to say it to Christine earlier. She had been the one to deliver both Stian and Aífe, and no one in their immediate circle of friends was more aware of their desire to have a big family than she.

He refused her offer to scan Loki for one reason alone – he knew what it was going to find.

He had felt it the moment Loki’s internal organs finally stopped liquefying from radioactive residue from the photon blast underneath his palms. He felt it even as his magic worked furiously to plug the countless tears in Loki's bowels from leaking toxic poison into his peritoneal cavity and spilling into his blood. 

Stephen felt it the moment his magic mingled with Loki's dwindling seidr to try and repair the millions of microscopic lacerations to Loki’s spleen, liver, kidneys, and – yes, those organs too.

No magic in the world could reverse such extensive damage, of that Stephen was sure.

He had tried, God knew how he tried.

Stephen closed his eyes against the pain in his chest.

That part of Loki?

That beautiful, magical, perfect part of Loki…was gone.

So no, Stephen had said no to Christine, for there was no way he was going to put Loki through more pain than he needed to be.

“He can’t bear children anymore, Tony.”

Tony, for once in his life, was gobsmacked into a stunned silence.

When he finally spoke, he hardly sounded like himself. “Well, that sucks.”

Stephen agreed wholeheartedly. “That it does,” he murmured to himself.

“Yeah…I guess that does require a balcony moment or two.” Tony sighed heavily and landed just as heavily on his ass, leaning against the balustrade.

He sighed again in that slightly irritated, huffy way that was strongly suggestive of his need for a stiff drink.

Stephen silently handed him a magic single-malt scotch on the rocks, which Tony accepted in delighted gratitude. “Can I keep you?”

“You can’t afford my billables.” Stephen gave him a little smirk.

Tony bobbed his head in a ‘true, true’ gesture. He downed his drink hastily. When he put it down, his eyes and nose seemed a little red.

“Ah well. All that means is you’ll never need to get anything bigger than a 5-seater.”

Stephen blinked, not comprehending how that was in any way relevant to his situation.

“You have two beautiful children. And you have each other.” Tony shrugged. “That’s more than I can say I had when I was growing up.”

Stephen’s soft voice carried with the gentle ocean breeze. “I’m happy with what I’ve got, Tony. I really am. I count my blessings every day.”

“You’ll get through this.”

Tony lifted a finger before Stephen could say what Tony knew he wanted to say. Stephen had too little faith in Loki sometimes. “And you will get Loki through this. That’s what you’re for.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Stephen had never felt more grateful for their friendship than he was right this moment.

Tony snorted. He handed him the empty glass. “Another, please.”

Against his better judgment, Stephen obliged. An afterthought quickly followed the sudden warmth he was feeling inside. “Why a 5-seater?”

“Why, for road trips with Uncle Tony, of course!”

That finally brought a genuine, albeit small laughter, but a laughter nonetheless out of Stephen.

____________________________________________

Stephen spent half a minute standing just outside Loki’s room, partly to gather the courage to enter, and partly just to stare at his husband through the clear glass of the viewing window. “Hey you.”

Loki looked at him coolly. There was no point feigning surprise, not when he knew Stephen had been standing there all along.

“You weren’t here when I woke up. I had to make do with gazing upon Thor’s slightly less wonderful personage when I would have preferred so very much to gaze upon yours,” was Lokispeak for _where the hell have you been?_

Stephen sat himself down slowly on the bed, very careful not to jostle it unnecessarily.

They reached out for each other almost at the same time.

Loki’s hand was ice-cold, either as a result of his body temperature equilibrating with the Healing Hall’s centralised cooling system or poor perfusion from blood loss, Stephen was not quite certain. He rubbed it in between his own palms to suffuse some semblance of warmth into it.

“My lips are cold too.”

Stephen supposed he should warm those up for Loki too.

As they kissed, all reservations drained out of Stephen like water, and he wondered why he had hesitated in the first place.

Loki was alive…and so was he.

Everything else can definitely wait.

“How are you feeling?”

“Normal. Great, in fact. If not for this annoying tube down my nose, and this giant drain sticking out the side of my belly, I think I can run for miles.”

Stephen smiled in relief, knowing it was likely to be fleeting. “That’s the painkiller talking.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t ever take me off it, please.” Loki pleaded.

The chaotic way his healing seidr was churning away frantically in his gut told him that it was only a matter of time before the true extent of his injuries would make itself known. He was not looking forward to the pain-filled days ahead, that was for sure. “Judging from all the long faces round here, I’m guessing I dodged a fair-sized bullet?”

“Yet another one.”

How many times had Stephen been in this position ever since Loki entered his life? Sitting by his sickbed, every time with varying degrees of stomach-churning anxiety, fear and whatever else in the dictionary that synonymised pure, unadulterated terror?

Terror that one day his vigil would turn into a wake?

Too many times was the answer.

Stephen reached out to memorise the lines of Loki’s face with his fingers as he had done so many times before.

Memory consolidation was his excuse, when perhaps all he wanted was to assure himself that Loki was still alive.

“Stephen. I’m okay.”

Loki’s lips were not as cold anymore as they pressed soft, light kisses into his palm; Stephen had obviously warmed them enough for him. “As I promised, I didn’t go anywhere. I’m okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re okay.”

“You’re okay,” Stephen repeated, as softly as a private prayer one offered under times of duress when one could not afford to be heard –

“Stephen, what’s wrong?” His husband’s lips were a tight, white line against the unnatural pallor of his usually tanned face. “You’re scaring me.”

If he was not wired to so many tubes and collecting bags containing ominous-looking body fluids Loki would have scrambled off the bed and into Stephen’s lap so fast the Sorcerer Supreme wouldn’t know what hit him.

“I’m not...dying, am I?” Loki paled. “Is that why I feel so comfortable? You’re giving me the good stuff to make me palliatively comfortable?”

Trust Loki to turn even the darkest thoughts into moments of comedic relief.

And yet tears still came to Stephen’s eyes as he laughed. “No, I’m just – ”

 _Be careful what you wish for_ , Loki had once said.

Stephen’s hand reached out to touch Loki’s heavily-bandaged abdomen.

 _Equally importantly, what you don’t wish for_ , had been Loki’s follow-up to his first word of caution.

At the time, it had sounded vague. Loki could have been talking about anything, but now Loki’s words could not ring more true.

Stephen’s obsession with spacing had set off a domino effect that nearly cost him his marriage and Loki’s sanity, but never, _never_ had he expected the final cost to be this great.

Would he ever find the courage to tell Loki what the price of saving Stephen’s life was?

Eventually, he supposed he must.

But not tonight, Stephen decided against his better judgment. He was well aware that withholding such vital information from Loki could only bite him in the ass later down the line but

Not tonight.

Stephen reached to touch Loki’s face again, his androgynous beauty stark and cold against the black of his hair and the green of his eyes. “I love you, Loki.”

In his drug-induced disinhibitory state, Loki’s “I love you too,” came naturally without hesitation.

His next words however did not come as easily, “Stephen, you look troubled. What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Loki.” The grief in Stephen’s light-coloured eyes had darkened them to a sombre charcoal hue, belying the tenderness in the soft kisses he was pressing to Loki’s fingers. They had gone cold again.

“Thank you,” Stephen murmured. “For saving my life.”

Now Loki knew something was really wrong.

He had expected a lecture, a litany of berating rants and fond name-calling – Stephen liked to call him a fool in this sort of situation, and Loki welcomed it; the whole predictability of it was as good as a guarantee that things would quickly return to their relative state of normal until the next strike of calamity came, and so on and so forth.

“Stephen, something’s wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

Stephen heard the imploring words, but he simply could not bring himself to be forthcoming.

The grief was tearing his heart to pieces, but he would spare Loki the pain, if only for one night.

“Hush, darling. Nothing’s wrong. Not tonight.”

_“Not tonight.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am but a storyteller and these are borrowed characters. I hope any liberty I take with the characterisation, intentional or unintentional, does not get in the way of enjoying the story, just as it is. At the end of the day, I seek only to share a piece of my imagination, and this is just a fic, my respite, my happy place. ❤


	12. Chapter 12

“When can you take this thing out of me, Stephen?”

“Why? Is it hurting?” Stephen asked warily.

“No, it just itches,” Loki complained loudly. “My seidr’s been trying to expunge it from my body since last night. It is not overly fond of foreign bodies, as you very well know.”

Stephen smiled. “I guess that’s another sign that you’re on the mend. Drain output has been nil for the past four hours so I might consider taking it out in the next few hours. Just to make sure you’re not going to suddenly rebleed inside and save me the hassle of putting a new one in.”

“Yes, yes, whatever.”

“Can you sit up? I need to take a look at your burn wounds.”

“I’m not an invalid, Strange.”

Stephen was as cool as a cucumber. “Just ignore His Royal Grouchiness.” At Stephen’s behest, a couple of Healers helped Loki up into a semi-recumbent position, and when it did not look like he was going to tilt over in slump, pushed him all the way to an upright position.

“Take it easy,” Stephen murmured, watching him closely for any ill-effects. Loki did not appear light-headed, only cranky. Bed rest always set his teeth on edge.

“You ready?”

“No day like today, I suppose,” Loki muttered.

Stephen began to peel the thick bandages back from around Loki’s abdomen. The unwrapping became slower the closer he got to the innermost layer but Loki was having none of it. “Don’t worry about being gentle, Stephen, just rip it off already, will you?”

“My, aren’t you’re the God of Sunshine and Rainbows today.” He glanced at the drug infusion pump. It was still working, pumping Loki full of powerful analgesia. So it was not pain then that was being a bother. “You feeling alright?” Stephen asked sharply.

Loki stared at his hands. “I just want to see my children.”

“And you will see them soon enough. After I take a look at your wounds and redress them. Okay?” Stephen asked sternly.

“You won’t need to. They’re already healed.”

“They can’t be. It’s only been two days –” Stephen’s voice trailed. 

Gone were the smooth planes of pale, white skin that used to Loki’s stomach. The burns had healed quickly, thanks to Loki’s seidr, but they left behind puckered, raised scar tissue that ran criss-cross like intersecting tram lines over Loki’s entire abdomen.

Loki lifted a hand to cast a glamour over himself but Stephen was quick to grab his hand. “No. Leave it.”

Loki stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Is this what you were worried about?” Stephen asked quietly.

“My entire torso looks like the carapace of a terrapin, Strange.”

Stephen shrugged. “So what. You dress like a nun anyway. No one’s gonna see.”

“No one will see,” Stephen repeated gently. "No one will see it but me.”

“It is unsightly, Stephen. I am disfigured, inside and outside.”

“Remember what you asked me the second time we met?” Stephen asked lightly. “You asked me why I put my hands on display.”

“I refuse to get sentimental over scars, Stephen.”

“I’m not asking you to. I keep my scars because they remind me of the sacrifice I had to make to get to where I am today.” Shaky fingers traced the raised lines lightly. “And these? They remind me of yours.”

Stephen’s touch was featherlight against the hyperaesthesia of newly-healed, raw skin. “They remind me that you love me.”

Loki could not speak.

“Besides, terrapins are cute. I kept one as a pet when I was a boy.”

Stephen kissed him on the lips gently. “You are not disfigured to me, Loki. You are beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Really really.” Stephen smiled. “Inside and out.”

Loki’s eyes misted, but eventually, he too smiled a small smile of his own. He cleared his throat. “Ah well. They’ll be gone by tomorrow, anyway.”

“You cheeky little –” Stephen’s eyes widened. “What was that all about then? Were you just testing me?”

“I had to be sure, Stephen. How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to leave me for a newer model?”

“You’re an antique, Loki.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re so high maintenance I can’t afford a newer model.”

Loki snorted. “Yes, and we antiques need to be in a protected environment, can I have my top back please?”

“Your Highnesses?”

“Pappa!!” “Stian!”

“Mind the drain, Loki.”

“I’ve missed you so _much!_ ” Loki kissed Stian loudly on both cheeks.

Aífe reached out and grabbed at Loki’s hair. “Dada.”

“Yes!” Stephen punched the air, and did a little dance. “Yes!! Finally!”

Loki gawked at his husband who was still doing that stupid little dance. He looked utterly and completely crushed. “That’s just…not…right…” He cupped his daughter’s cheeks till her lips puckered like a blowfish, and wailed, “Aífe!”

_____________________________________

His tutor had finally tracked Stian to Loki’s bedside and taken him away. Aífe’s governess did the same with his sister. At long last, Stephen had Loki all to himself.

“Scoot over.”

“Why can’t we have bigger beds in the Healing Halls?”

“It’s just not practical, Loki.” But Loki had a talent for making room for his husband no matter how small the space, and soon they were curled around each other on the single bed, savouring the warmth and the strength of each other’s body and heartbeat respectively.

“What are you thinking about?” Loki murmured.

Stephen inhaled deeply. He had been mulling the issue long enough, he might as well bring it out into the open. “Why did it hurt you to be around him? The Kree?”

Loki ran his fingers through the back of his hair. When he found what he was looking for, he took Stephen’s hand and guided his husband’s fingers along the suture lines of his skull.

“Do you feel that?”

Stephen felt the circular depressions underneath the skin of Loki’s scalp. He knew what they were. He was there when Dr Nicodemus West drilled them into Loki’s skull in his attempt to evacuate a blood clot that was impinging on his brainstem, killing him slowly.

“I am full of holes, Stephen. There are so many ways to get in. So many things they can take out.”

Stephen massaged the back of Loki’s head absently, as if doing that could somehow plug the holes, imaginary and physical ones alike.

“I have never felt more…exposed in my life. I can feel it, but I can’t explain it.” Loki’s voice was small. “Some days I just feel so drained. Like a tub of water. You keep filling it but it never gets full because there’s a leak at the bottom.”

Stephen frowned. He did not like the sound of that. Not at all.

“When you had Aífe and you fell into the deep sleep...” He knew he was grasping at straws, but there was something not quite right with Loki, and it started happening way before this whole debacle with Yon-Rogg. “Did you dream?”

Loki was quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t – remember. I don’t think I did.” His eyes gazed into the distance. “But I heard…singing. Sometimes.”

“Singing?”

“It wasn’t you…?”

“I can’t sing, Loki.”

Loki's stomach turned at the thought of those repulsive lips on his, and he unconsciously rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “I think it hurt because he was looking for the Tesseract. I kept telling him I didn’t have it, but he kept…digging.”

“He kept digging even after he was done reading all he could find.” Loki shivered involuntarily at the memory. “He enjoyed it.”

“Loki, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“The damage he did to you, inside, was extensive.” Stephen laid a hand on Loki’s belly. “And it was not entirely reversible. There were some...parts we were not able to salvage.”

Loki stared at him.

“Which part?” He finally managed. “Which part of me, Stephen?”

Stephen could not bring himself to answer, but Loki did not need him to. The solemnness that had darkened Stephen’s eyes had told him enough, but he was not having it.

“Take me off the painkillers, Stephen.”

“I don’t think you’re ready,” Stephen pleaded.

“I need to know.” Loki clawed desperately at the back of his hand. “I need to know, Stephen.”

“Loki, calm down.”

“I am calm. I am very, very calm.”

“Okay!” Stephen roughly grabbed Loki’s hand and placed him palm over the cannula. “Okay. Just. Let me. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Instead of removing the intravenous access, Stephen felt along the infusion pump for the stop button. Against his better judgment, he pressed on it reluctantly.

They did not wait long before the pain came, swift and brutal. Loki gasped and would have keeled over had Stephen not caught him; all attempt to lay Loki flat on his back only exacerbated the agony, and Loki curled around the stabbing, excruciating pain in his stomach.

A long, low moan escaped him as Loki struggled to breathe through the worst of the cramps. He needed to control the beast, just long enough for him to look deep inside him, needed to prove Stephen wrong –

“Come on, Loki. That’s enough. Let me put you back on the morphine.”

“No.” Sweat matted Loki’s curls to his head like a crown of thorns. “Not yet, Strange.”

Loki’s magic trawled through the festering nest of snakes that was once his gut and his breaths quickened. _No._

The burns on his skin were mere nicks in comparison to the damage Yon-Rogg’s photon blast had done to his insides.

 _Butchered_ , a voice spoke _. I have been butchered inside._

_No._

“No. She wouldn’t lie. She would never lie to me.”

“She might have got it wrong, Loki.”

“No! Not her! Aífe was never wrong!” Loki was hyperventilating now.

“Loki, I need you to calm down.”

“She promised me you, Stephen! Did she lie about that too?” A hysterical sob.   

“Loki, that’s enough!” Stephen stabbed the start button on the infusion pump, and with a whirring sound, the morphine began to trickle into his system once again, but it did not pacify Loki quickly enough –

Loki flailed and thrashed and wrested away from his husband’s arms but against all odds, Stephen managed to gather all of Loki’s long limbs into as tight an embrace as the myriad tubes and lines would allow, and still Loki struggled, his breaths short and shallow –

_“Loki.”_

If all the holes in Loki’s head could be good for one thing, let it be for Stephen to reach him when no words seemed good enough, no reassurance strong enough.

 _“It’s okay.”_ Stephen pressed his lips to the top of his head. _“We’re going to be okay.”_

Loki sagged heavily against Stephen’s chest; all strength sapped out of him.

______________________________________

Loki finally slipped into a restless sleep. Stephen was aware of the time ticking away slowly as he sat on the foot of the bed, just watching Loki sleep, the lines on his haggard face sharp and tight.

He made his way slowly out onto the balcony. He stopped short at the sight of a familiar figure sitting against the pillar, one leg in, one leg dangling over the balcony out into the open air below.

The sight of Stephen startled Valkyrie out of her reverie. He waved an apologetic hand and started to walk back inside.

“Don’t leave on my account, Highness.”

“Don’t you leave on mine, Captain.”

Valkyrie swung her legs all the way in and jumped off the railing. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“I may have to force myself to apologise for earlier.” She looked even more uncomfortable now. “I thought I…enabled you.”

“You gotta lay off the drink, my Lady.” Stephen shook his head. “I would never do anything to hurt him, at least not knowingly.”

“Considering the circumstances, what was I supposed to think.” Valkyrie accompanied her question that was not a question with a shrug. “So why did he kick you out then?”

“He didn’t. He’s asleep.”

“Then how come you look like a boy whose puppy just died?”

“I thought staying away would keep him from harm. But then I got to thinking, how could I protect him if I’m not there? So, I came back, and not even half a day later?” Stephen waved a hand in the general direction of Loki’s room. “This.”

Stephen heaved a sigh. He could not remember the last time he had an actual conversation with the Valkyrie, having always been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, but something was telling him that perhaps Valkyrie was the perfect company to be had that night.

“Guilt is the most terrible feeling in the world," he managed.

Valkyrie was silent for an unnaturally long period of time.

“Do you know why I left Asgard, Highness?”

“Wasn’t it Hela?”

“Is that what you’ve been told? I abandoned the throne of Asgard to escape Hela?”

“I am not one for idle gossip, my Lady. Everyone’s reason for staying or leaving is unique to themselves and very often, quite personal.”

Valkyrie nodded solemnly.

“In the final battle against Hela, I was but a few who remained standing. I was staring Death in the face, quite literally too, and when Hela delivered that final strike, I thought that was it.”

“Sigrun, my – ” she abruptly clammed. Stephen looked at her sharply.

But in the end, she persevered. “She took a sword in the back for me.”

Her gaze was a thousand miles away, her memory centuries in the past. “The love of my life died protecting me.”

“So yeah I agree. Guilt is the most terrible feeling in the world. Grief is a close second though, because it never leaves you. Never.” She tipped her bottle and drained it.

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is…you’re here, you’re not here, it doesn’t matter. Lackey’s going to get hurt either way, it’s just your luck that he happens to be the biggest klutz in the universe.”

“But to know that you can say you love him, in any given time and place…” She shook her head. “How does that not give you a reason to stay?”

“I have hurt him too many times, Valkyrie,” Stephen said, his confession hollow. “Just being with me puts him in harm’s way.”

“You Midgardians. You have a strange way of showing you care.” She lifted an eyebrow. “On that same token, why not leave your children behind too?”

“You’re either all in, or out. Which one are you?”

She tipped her empty bottle, stared at in disgust and lobbed it into the air, into the distance. Stephen winced.

“Why choose this life, Valkyrie?”

“I didn’t. It chose me.” She glanced at him out the corner of one eye. “Just like your life chose you.”

“You…never thought about settling down? Children?”

“I can’t even if I wanted to. It was one of the things I gave up when I entered royal service.”

She scoffed lightly. “Your husband is more likely to give you a hundred babes in one lifetime, than me bearing a single one over a hundred of mine.”

Stephen’s throat dried up instantly. His eyes began to sting.

“Stian and Aífe…are all we are ever going to have, Valkyrie.”

Valkyrie stared at him, open-mouthed.

“I’ll be damned…” A stunned whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Oh Loki.” She shook her head again, her eyes darkening with grief. “The one thing he feared more than anything, and it ended up happening.”

“What are you talking about?”

She hesitated. “He…told me things in confidence. I told him he was imagining things.”

“What things?”

“I can’t tell you, Highness. You gotta talk it out with him yourself.”

Stephen was no stranger to evasive body language. Midgardian or Asgardian, it looked the same. “There’s something troubling you, Valkyrie. If it’s something you need to tell me, now is the time.”

“Hela drew her powers from Asgard, and with Ragnarok, she lost all source of power.” Valkyrie crossed her vambraced arms across her chest. “Loki draws his from Yggdrasil.”

“The fabled Tree of Life?”

“Was Loki not a fable until you met him?”

She got him there.

“Without the Bifrost or The Tesseract, we might as well be light years away from the rest of the Nine Realms and the source of Loki’s life force, his magic. And with all that has happened to him ever since we came to Earth – ” She grimaced. “Loki has never been able to recover to his full strength. It’s causing him to have doubts.”

“About what?”

“His own mortality,” she finally said.

“If it’s magic he needs, the Earth is saturated with it.”

“It isn’t his, Fancy Man,” she reminded him with a sniff. “Can’t take out somebody else’s money from the bank, can you.”

“Remember Skye? Lake Coruisk?”

“That was _his_.”

“Well there must be other places where he’s got his magic stored, just waiting for him to come back and reclaim it in times of need?”

“Dunno. Like I said, you gotta talk it out with him.”

The conversation was over. She sauntered over to the open doors and gazed at Loki’s sleeping figure.

“Fancy Man…”

“Yeah?”

“He saved your life because he loves you. Don’t you make him regret it.”

______________________________________

The end of the week rolled in and with it, the Odinson-Strange Family Movie Night. Stephen would have liked Loki to recuperate in the Healing Halls for a bit longer, but of course, his husband would hear none of it.

“What’s the use of marrying a doctor if I can’t recuperate in the comfort of my own home?” was the argument, one that Stephen could counterargue with a litany of evidence-based medical mumbo jumbo, but the delighted look on his son’s face won out in the end.

Even dinner was a livelier affair. Loki sipped his watered-down juice slowly as he listened to Stian chattering away, doing more talking than eating.

Tonight, they were watching The NeverEnding Story, which was quickly becoming Stian’s favourite movie.

“His name’s Bastian, Daddy. That sounds like my name.”

"So it does."

“Were you and Pappa watching this when you named me?”

“Uh, no, not really.” Stephen glanced at Stian’s Pappa who was sitting quietly on the other end of the couch. “Were you?”

Loki only shook his head and said nothing.

“You’re awfully quiet. You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You want me to get you some water? It’s near the two-hour mark.”

Stephen had started him on a regime to introduce fluids slowly back into his diet, starting with clear fluids. So far Loki had been tolerating the process to wean him off the parenteral nutrition. Tonight, Loki had felt adventurous and begged Stephen for some juice.  

“Maybe later.”

“I want a dragon, Daddy. I want a dragon just like Falkor.”

“It’s a Luckdragon,” Stephen murmured. Why he felt the need to correct his young son on the appropriate naming of fictional fantastical beasts was beyond him. It might have to do with the fact that it was his favourite movie as a child, when he was Stian’s age.

“Yeah, whatever. I want one.”

“I’m sure between your Pappa and I, we can track one down for you.”

“Can we go to Fantasia too?”

“Sure.” Yeah, because it was not just a movie. Fantasia was _real_. “When Aífe’s a bit bigger, okay?”

They were barely halfway through the movie when Stian suddenly announced, loudly. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“But we just ate!”

“You said I could have a cookie if I finished all my dinner.”

Stephen sighed. “That I did.”

Stephen used his foot to clear a circle among the clutter of toys on the carpet. He placed Aífe in it before raising invisible shields around her in a makeshift magical playpen. “Just one, okay? I don’t want you to wake up in the middle of the night with a tummy ache.”

“I’ll get it,” Loki said quietly, rising slowly from the couch.

Stephen opened his mouth to protest but Loki waved him off. “It’s time for my drink anyway.”

A sudden crashing sound from the kitchen had Stian look to Stephen in alarm. “What was that, Daddy?” A horrified whisper, “Is Gmork in our house?”

“Stay here with your sister.”

Stephen was out of his seat and in the kitchen in a heartbeat. He found Loki curled up and shaking on the kitchen floor, amid pieces of broken glass and ceramic. The spilt milk had swirls of blood in it from where his hand landed on a jagged piece of glass when he must have wanted to break his fall.

“Loki?” He crouched down next to his husband, his heart beating in fear. “What is it?”

“Hurts.” Loki could barely speak, his face nearly as white as the milk he had spilled. “My stomach.”

“Hold on,” Stephen said tightly. He slipped his arms around him and scooped Loki up, and Loki could not suppress his cry of agony –

In a split second, they were in their bedroom. Loki drew his legs up immediately and moaned.

“You’ve been feeling poorly since after dinner, haven’t you?”

Loki only looked at him feverishly, eyes glazed with pain.

“I’m a doctor, Loki. I know the signs. My bullshit detector’s the best there is on the entire planet.” Stephen slipped a hand underneath Loki’s tunic and felt his belly. He could feel it spasm violently underneath his palm. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Daddy?” Stephen could hear Stian call out to him from the living room.

“Stian, stay away from the kitchen!” he bellowed. In his haste to attend to Loki, he had to forgo cleaning up the mess and broken glass on the kitchen floor.

“Stephen, the children – ” Loki gasped. He gripped his stomach as another cramp rippled through him, the strongest one yet, and he choked back on a sob, “Stephen…”

“Shh. I’m here.” Stephen worked his magic through, and coaxed the steel-jaws of pain to loosen.

When the pain eased up a little, Loki drew in a few shaky breaths. “I think apple juice might just be too advanced for me.”

“I think water’s too advanced for you,” Stephen groused. “I’ll put you back on TPN. You’re not ready.”

Loki moaned again, in frustration this time. He was once the most powerful Sorcerer in Asgard. And to think he collapsed because of some freaking fruit juice –

“You have to give it time, Loki. You can’t push yourself like this.”

“Daddy?” Stian was outside their bedroom now, sounding more than a little scared. “Daddy, are you okay?”

“See to them, Stephen. I’m okay.” Loki leaned back in his pillow, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and above his bloodless lips. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Despite his son’s protests that the movie was far from over, Stephen turned it off, and by the time Stephen had put Stian to bed, and Aífe in her governess’ care for the night, the pain had returned with a vengeance and Loki was once again a sobbing, crumbling mess on the bed.

There were rare times when his shakes were not so bad, and Stephen thanked the Powers that Be for small mercies; with steady hands, he syringed out some antispasmodic medication and super-strength painkiller, and coaxed an arm away from the death grip Loki had around his middle.

“Sharp prick, Loki.” Loki did not even flinch when Stephen injected the medication directly into a vein in his cubital fossa.

Thankfully it did not take long for the painkiller to kick in. When Loki’s breaths finally evened out and his body relaxed with the last tail-ends of pain, Stephen heaved a sigh and slumped onto the bed. He reached out and grabbed Loki’s hand.

“Alright now?”

Loki squeezed his hand gratefully. “Yes. Thank you, Stephen.”

Stephen made to slip his arm in around the back of his shoulders to pull him in, but Loki shook his head. “I’m disgusting. I’m drenched in sweat.”

Ridiculous. Stephen pulled him in anyway.

Loki sighed and laid his head on Stephen’s chest. A murmur, “You’re too loud.”

Stephen frowned. “What, my heart?”

“No. Your head.” Loki forced open eyes heavy with the pull of drug-induced drowsiness. “Stop it. Stop thinking about it.”

Stephen’s jaws clenched. “I can’t.”

“I don’t regret anything,” Loki said flatly. “This is nothing.”

Stephen’s fingers were coarse but they could not be gentler as they played with his hair. “It’s not nothing, Loki.”

“It is nothing,” Loki reiterated. “Compared to the pain of losing _you.”_

He lifted his head a fraction, just enough so he could look at Stephen out the corner of one eye. “I’ve only had you for six years, Strange. You want to steal the rest of it from me?”

Stephen’s eyes smarted. “I’ll find a cure. I’ll travel to the end of the world. This galaxy, and onto the next. I’ll find Yggdrasil and get it to you. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

“Yggdrasil is lost.” But it was the sentiment that counted, after all. “But thank you, anyway.”

“We’ll get through this.” Stephen kissed the top of Loki’s head. “I’ll get you through this.”

Loki’s cold fingers curled around the little hairs on Stephen’s chest.

“Don’t leave me, Stephen.”

Stephen's throat dried. This was it. This was rock bottom for Loki, to say such a thing -

_Either you're in, or you're out, Strange. Which one are you?  
_

He kissed the throbbing pulse at Loki's temple. “Never.”

Because without Loki, he might as well be at rock bottom too, and he _needed_ Loki to climb back up. “I’ll never leave you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, The Ancient One's real name was Aife, the namesake of Stephen and Loki's daughter. 
> 
> Lake Coruisk was a magical place on the Isle of Skye where Loki reawakened his failing seidr in Chapter 5 of The Amendment.


	13. You Don't Miss Your Water

_The Everest, time immemorial_

 

“What are you reading?”

“Something called ‘The English at the North Pole’,” Loki murmured absently, not looking up from his book.

“Jules Verne.” She always liked his choices in books. She liked it more when he would read to her, occasionally. It was certainly a refreshing change from the gruesome grimoires that constituted leisure reading for her nowadays. “French or English?”

“Don’t know.” Loki turned the cover to show her. “In what language does this appear to you?”

Les Anglais au pôle Nord, she read. “En français.”

Loki hmm-ed. Aífe must have heard him boast about his Allspeak a hundred times. He decided to spare her the hundredth-and-first. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not bad.”

As fond as she was of Loki, she could not help feeling envious of his gifts sometimes. “Well. Nothing should get lost in translation, at least.”

“It tells of one man’s obsession to venture into the unknown, to push the limits of human imagination and to discover new frontiers no one ever dared to pursue…this Captain Hatteras is quite tenacious in his beliefs. I should quite like to meet him.”

“Teaches you a thing or two about the human spirit, doesn’t it?” She flipped onto her belly and peered up at him. “You to whom everything comes easily, simply at a snap of your fingers?”

“If only, my darling.” He simply smiled and said again, “If only.”

Knowing that her curiousity would otherwise pull him down a line of conversation he would rather not entertain, he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Have you chosen a relic yet?” He realised his faux pas almost instantly. “Has a relic chosen you?” he corrected himself.

Her eyes lit up. With a quick series of hand gestures, she produced an object out of thin air.

“Is that –” He hastily placed the book aside, his eyes widening in wonder and delight. “The Fan of Zhongli Quan? One of the Eight Immortals?”

“Do you know what you can do with this?” She watched in amusement as he ran a reverent hand along the spine of the fan, his eyes twinkling with a look of childish excitement she had not seen in a very long time. “Legend has it you can turn stones into gold or silver with this.”

“Really?” The rows of multi-coloured Paradisaea feathers were exquisitely sleek to the touch, delicate yet undeniably strong, as evidenced by how they were still sturdily mounted onto their mother-of-pearl handle, even after centuries.

She watched as the golden tassel at the end wrapped itself around Loki’s wrist as it reacted to Loki’s seidr and the feathers bristled and gleamed golden, red, and blue against the greyness of the mountains. “What else does it do?”

“It has also been said that it wields the power to resurrect the dead.”

Her pale eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. _“Really?”_

Loki frowned. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

He closed the fan with a rap, and handed it back to her.

“Well. That probably explains why the Sorcerer Supreme didn’t look all too pleased when it chose me.”

“I have no need for gold, or silver.” She pulled her hair away from her neck and resettled her head in Loki’s lap. “Only knowledge.”

He waited patiently for her to continue.

“For instance, how did you get us from Kamar-Taj to the peak of the Everest in the blink of an eye? And how am I not freezing to death?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smiled teasingly, but to her suspicion, his smile did not quite reach the calm sea-green of his eyes.

“You look troubled, my love. Why?” she asked softly.

He reached down and caught a stray lock of hair in between his middle and index fingers; it gleamed a burnished reddish-gold as it bathed in the fast-disappearing light of day. He did not like her new hairstyle; in his opinion, she was cutting too much of it for his liking.

Every part of her was magic. What a downright waste.

“In due time, my darling.” By answering her first question, he had successfully evaded the second question. “Would you like some tea?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She pushed herself to a sitting position and accepted a cup of magic tea, fragrant and soothing.

She watched the blizzard blow around them; the howling gales should be deafening, but within the safe boundaries of Loki’s invisible shields, the elements barely touched them beyond the occasional cooling breeze across the face and wisps of whisper in the wind.

“I suppose the ability to raise an army of the dead would come in handy sometime.”

“ _Ooh._ Do call on me when you get the chance.” Loki leaned back on his hands, with his long legs stretched out in front of him. Any further they would certainly dangle over the ravine; if he was fearful of the six-hundred-foot drop he did not show it, his demeanour in all appearance unperturbed. “I should like very much to watch.”

“I always call on you.”

“You only ever call me when the fight’s over.”

“Well. I wouldn’t want you to steal all the glory.”

“Always a competition with you, my darling.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “And that’s why you love me so much.”

Once again, his smile disappeared all too quickly.

“What is it, Loki?” She was starting to get a little worried now.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Aífe?” he asked softly, in a tone that very much suggested he was asking a question he already knew the answer too.

She stared at him.

“In due time, my love.” She reached out to finger the line of newly-healed skin that stretched from base of his skull all the way across the front of his neck to the dip where his two collarbones met, red and raw against his naturally pale complexion.

It should have killed him.

Perhaps she did have the power to resurrect the dead after all. “In due time.”

_____________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

“How is Loki doing?”

“He’s recovering. Slowly, but he’s getting there.” Stephen must have hesitated for a millisecond too long, for suddenly Thor’s quill pen stilled.

“It does seem to be a bit slow this time around.” At the sight of the silent question in Thor’s mismatched but no less piercing eyes, Stephen relented.

“He’s pushing himself too hard. To the extent that his condition regresses sometimes, making it worse than when he started out.”

“Well, that’s Loki for you,” Thor sighed. “Do bear with him, Brother, and have patience. He…was never shown much of it growing up, through no fault of his, of course. That would in part explain his over-eagerness to compensate for his ills and pains by pushing himself beyond his limits.”

Stephen had long since resigned to his fate; his husband had to be one of the most stubborn beings in the universe. The worst thing about it was, he could not even complain about it, for he prided himself as being a highly-principled (he would not describe himself as stubborn, such a negative connotation to it) individual himself.

What a pair they made.

“Quite right,” Stephen said, a tad uneasily. “Thor, there is something I have been meaning to ask and discuss with you.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, or if Loki’s ever brought this to your attention, but Loki seems to not be doing so well lately.”

“Are we talking these past few weeks lately, or these past few years lately?”

Stephen was not quite sure if the options given him were all that mutually exclusive. “Gradually over the past few years, but more markedly over the last couple of weeks?”

“Do you mean physically, or -?”

“Both.” Stephen paused. “And his magic too.”

“Well, that is to be expected.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, he has been the target of several vicious attacks ever since we came to Midgard, and nearly lost his life on all those occasions.” Thor’s mood turned sombre. “Not to mention the two very difficult pregnancies he’d had. I’d say he’s been faring quite well in the face of such hardship. He is resilient that way.”

“Of course, this latest illness of his had me quite worried. He came to me last week and did not look as if he had slept a wink in days. And never had he been so willing to suffer my presence just so he could nap for a while, and that in itself was a cause of great concern.” Thor’s face fell. “He appeared very distressed and troubled about something.”

Stephen listened with growing wariness. “Did he tell you what he was troubling him?”

Thor shook his head. Then he looked up in alarm. “Wait, did you say his magic?”

“He fears he is losing his strength, and thinks it is linked to his magic.” Stephen felt uncomfortable saying it but he could see no way around it; he needed Thor’s help. “The Kree easily subdued him with a touch of his mind, when he should have been no match against Loki at all.”

“I had wondered about that…” Thor drummed his fingers on the table.

“The Valkyrie thinks it is because he is so far away from the Tree of Life.” Stephen had no idea if the Revengers were a tight-knit group, but judging from the look of dismay on Thor’s face, his brother-in-law was clearly upset at being the only one not in the loop.

“Loki himself is not convinced of the cause. If there is a way to get him close, maybe we can have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Why has he not done it himself?” Thor's forehead furrowed in confusion. It was Loki’s knowledge of the secret pathways between worlds that allowed them to cross into Svartalfheim when Malekith had been hot in pursuit of the Aether. “I dare say he is the most knowledgeable in all the realms, and only one of the few who has ever scaled the branches of Yggdrasil.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed as he recalled something peculiar Loki had said.

“Yggdrasil is lost, were his exact words.”

“That cannot be.” Thor clasped his hands neatly and rubbed his thumbs together thoughtfully. “He said this?”

Stephen nodded.

“Loki has always been able to extract magic from Yggdrasil from wherever he was. Midgard should be no different.” Thor looked deeply worried now. “He would not have survived for very long after the destruction of Asgard if that were true. That was one of the main reasons why I chose Midgard, instead of one of the many other habitable planets outside of the Nine Realms.”

Stephen took a few seconds to process Thor’s word. Yet there was still one thing he did not understand. “When Loki was taken ill in the first stages of his pregnancy with Aífe, you implied that with the loss of Asgard, the connection to Yggdrasil was lost, and that was why he could not recover.”

“For the demands on his seidr at the time were great, yes. He was carrying at the time, and the sudden depletion in his seidr when he saved all those people at the magic school could not sustain both his needs and the baby’s,” Thor explained patiently. “The magic on Midgard is abysmal in quality and quantity in comparison to Asgard.”

As if only realising that his brother-in-law was also the Sorcerer Supreme, Thor raised a placating hand. “Compatible magic, no offense.”

Stephen lifted a cool eyebrow. “None taken.”

Thor stared at his own fingertips. “Shall I give Loki some of mine again? Like we did the last time?”

“I don’t think it is a matter of not having enough,” Stephen said quietly. He had run through his diagnostics numerous times, and every time the result was the same. Nothing seemed amiss with Loki’s seidr…from the outside at least.

“It is something intrinsic, something not even Loki could put his finger on. But it is very real.”

“What will you have me do then, Brother?” Thor asked imploringly. “If it’s something I can do, then by the Norns, consider it as good as done.”

 “Are you still in contact with Dr Foster-Laurie?”

“Who?”

“You knew her as Dr Jane Foster?”

“Ah.” A peculiar look twisted his handsome features into something that looked like fond reminiscence from one angle, and bitter dejection from another. “Yes, the Lady Jane.”

Stephen waited until the bout of self-pity passed. “Majesty?”

“I’m afraid I have not spoken to her in years.” The last he heard of her was that she had gotten married to a fellow physicist. Thor did not get an invitation to the wedding, no, but he could not imagine going if he had gotten one anyway.

“The Yggdrasil is the only lead I’ve got so far to even begin to get to the bottom of this. As I understand it, she has had some experience with creating and manipulating interdimensional portals, yes? And that you had a hand in helping her?”

“I helped her close them, yes.” Thor’s eyes darkened at the memory. “It was the time of the Convergence when all the Nine Realms happened to be in alignment. A very rare phenomenon, you will not see it again in your lifetime, Doctor.”

“It cost me my Mother. And my Brother, for a time.”

Stephen was rendered silent.

Despite his moniker as the God of Thunder, the clouds never hung around Thor for too long. He straightened his broad shoulders and the line of his jaw tightened with resolve. “But if you think it would help Loki in any way, I will gladly re-establish contact with Jane and get you to meet…but what is it that you hope to accomplish, Stephen?”

“Aside from Asgard, on which of the remaining Eight Realms can I find masters in sorcery and magic?”

“Vanaheim.” The answer came to Thor naturally. Their Mother was a Vanir, after all. “You will find them on Vanaheim.”

“Then Vanaheim is where I want to go.”

___________________________________________

 

Loki stared at the peach in front of him. He had never been fond of peaches; there was something about their velvety fuzziness that turned him off, but today, just the smell of it, inviting and fragrant and ripe, was enough to make him salivate.

But he knew he could not partake; Stephen had been explicit in his orders. The knife was sharp and it sliced cleanly through the peach like butter. He methodically began to cut a few more slices, each to the thinness of a hardback book cover.

He glumly tossed the fruit slices into his glass of water.

_“Only for flavour, Loki.”_

_“Yes, yes.”_

_“I mean it.”_

_“Yes!”_

A buzz at the front door cut all telepathic conversation short, and Loki was surprised to find himself welcoming the distraction – until he saw who it was at the door.

“Stark. Why do I keep seeing you everywhere nowadays?”

“Aw, Reindeer Games, I’ve missed you too.”

Loki stepped aside to let him in.

“If you’re here to see Stephen, you’ve just missed him.” Loki offered Tony neither a seat nor a drink. “He’s taken Aífe to see something called a general practitioner for her six-month check-up and her shots.”

“Your kids get their shots too?” Tony sounded impressed.

“They are half-human,” Loki dead-panned.

“The children probably don’t need them but it keeps Stephen happy so.” Loki shrugged. “He gets panicky when he forgets. I don’t get why. We run behind the schedule all the time, and the children are as fit as a fiddle.”

“May I?” Tony gestured at the couch.

Loki languidly waved his knife in the air. Tony took that as a sign of consent and sank heavily into the plush leather with a stifled groan.

“Should you be walking on that leg?” Loki asked suspiciously. “Didn’t you break it or something? Or were you just being dramatic?”

“Your compassion leaves something to be desired, Loki.”

“I’m actually here to see you.”

Loki slammed his knife down.

“What have I done this time?”

Tony shook his head. “This is about what _I’ve_ done.”

Loki could not see his face, but what he could see of the back of Tony’s head and the stiff line of his shoulders heralded a sinking feeling in the pit of Loki’s constantly aching gut; he was not going to like what was coming.  

“The whole thing with Yon-Rogg. It’s on me.”

Yeah. Loki was right. The knife clattered noisily onto the kitchen island.

Tony ignored it. If Loki were to throw a knife at the back of his head right now, he might not even dodge. “I made Stephen take him in as a favour to me. Bastard wanted to get to him and the Time Stone all along.”

“So what happened to you…that’s on me too.”  

Tony waited for a few, long seconds, but Loki’s answer never came.

Had Loki gone poof on him?

He twisted his shoulders around –

Loki was standing stock-still at the kitchen counter.

“We’re even then.” Loki’s face was ashen.

“Not even close.” Tony looked close to tears.

“I pushed you out a window.”

Tony shook his head sadly. “Sorry to disappoint, Bambi, but I was never in any danger.”

“I threw knives at your head.”

“You missed.”

“I swapped all your liquor with horse piss.”

“That was you??!”

Loki nodded, a little pride seeping back into the thin line of his lips.

“Okay, we’re even.”

And Loki gave him what must be the first genuine smile he had ever given him.

“I’m sorry, Loki.”

And Loki’s smile faltered.

“Stark. Don’t.”

Tony stared at him. “Yeah, I know.”

He turned around to face the black screen of the television once more, tracking the ghostly figure reflected on the blank screen as it made its way to him slowly.

Tony was looking everywhere else but him. That was good enough for Loki.

He looked at the leg Tony had propped up on the pouffe. He laid a hand on it.

Tony stared at him in bewilderment.

It was a closed complex fracture and the Healers had done an excellent job at uniting all the fragments…and Tony ruined their wonderful work by gallivanting around the moment he felt well enough to stand, unravelling some of the magic keeping the smaller fragments together, causing the pain.

“Does the term non-weight-bearing mean anything to you?” Loki groused, but his seidr was already fast at work, setting the bones and healing the microfractures once again.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t. But I could, so I did.”

Loki sat himself down a cushion away on the three-seater leather sofa, not too close, yet not too far that it rendered the distance uncompanionable.

“I really am sorry, Loki.”

“Yeah,” Loki said softly. The nuance in Tony’s apology was deep and so riddled with guilt that it occurred to him that perhaps Tony was apologising for more than just his role in initiating contact between Yon-Rogg and the Sanctum.

Tony knew.

Loki’s jaws clenched. His chest began to burn.

With anger? Grief? He could not tell.

As always, Loki’s body took it upon itself to answer and he closed his eyes as a phantom pain snaked its way from deep inside his pelvis, all the way up to clench around his heart.

How odd…if that part of him had truly died, how could it twinge so painfully in the pit of his stomach?

_Because you took a knife to it yourself once. Remember?_

Loki’s eyes watered.

_Yes. I remember._

In his fit of madness, he had once sought to gut himself, not to prove a point to Stephen…never that. He would never play mind games with Stephen.

In his fit of madness, he had sought to destroy what he thought was the cause to all the strife they were facing in their fragile relationship – that maybe if he got rid of it, Stephen would love him freely and never leave him

_It’s not on you, Tony._

A tear trickled silently down his cheek, luckily the one that was turned away from Tony –

_It’s on me._

“If you ever need anything…”

When Loki slowly turned his head around to look at him, the tear had dried but Tony could see the trail it had left behind. It made Loki look even more alien and he remembered that his best friend’s husband was not of this world at all.

Tony felt the first pangs of fearful regret; maybe he should have rephrased his offer, anything could mean literally anything with these aliens – “Uh, within reason of course –”

“Can you smuggle in some ghost peppers the next time you’re here?”

Okay. He was not expecting that. But at least it was…doable?

Then again, “Didn’t they send you into early labour or something?”

Loki snorted. “Circumstantial.”

“And aren’t you like, I dunno, still healing inside?”

Loki shrugged. “It hurts no matter what I eat, so I might as well eat something I like.”

“Yeah…no.” Tony liked his current state of being alive. “Your husband will kill me.”

“Can you get us bigger beds for the Healing Halls? Do make them king-sized at least. If it’s California king, it’s even better. I’ve got long legs.” Loki sniggered. “Tell Stephen it’s a donation. That way he can’t refuse.”

Tony only laughed.

_________________________________________

“Loki.”

“Loki, wake up.”

“Stephen. You’re back.” Loki sat up slowly. “What time is it?”

“Late.” Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing out here?”

“I fell asleep.”

“On the couch?” Stephen swept Loki’s hair to the side to take a look at his neck. The central line was still in place, at least. “Do be careful next time, if you dislodge the catheter, it’ll be a right nightmare to reinsert.”

“Where’s Aífe?”

“Erla’s giving her a bath. I got her dirty playing at Central Park.”

Stephen looked at the coffee table. “Did you have company?” Loki’s peach-tinted water had barely been touched, but the glass next to it was empty.

Loki blinked blearily. It took a while for the memory to resurface. “Stark was here.”

“Tony? He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

Loki shrugged. “He just came by to drop off some toys for the children,” he said vaguely.

“Right.” Tony Stark came all the way to Asgard just for that? Stephen did not buy it for a second. “Well, is he still alive?” he asked awkwardly.

Loki shook his head slowly. “His head’s in the bottom freezer drawer. Body’s in the bathtub.”

Stephen had to laugh.

“Have you eaten?” Loki used the IV stand to pull himself off the couch.

“No, I’ll grab something from the Main Kitchen later.”

Loki wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist and breathed in his husband’s earthy scent deeply. “You can eat in front of me you know,” he mumbled into the side of Stephen’s neck.

Stephen’s hand was warm on the small of his back. “I know,” he said softly.

Speaking of eating –

Stephen looked up. The TPN bag was nearly empty. “Come. Let’s get your dinner sorted.”

In a split second, Loki found himself standing in the makeshift procedure room next to their bedroom. He watched Stephen gather all his sterile equipment and snap on his gloves. Stephen could probably do it in his sleep, he’d had so much practice.

Loki stared at the milky yellow TPN bag in distaste. A bag of superfood containing all the proteins, carbohydrates, vitamins and trace elements he needed to continue living.

And he would trade it all in a heartbeat for a peach.

Loki sighed.

“I’m going to see Dr Jane Foster tomorrow.”

Loki looked up in surprise. “Why?”

“To see if she can help. Her work on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge is at the forefront of modern astrophysics, if anybody can get us closer to where Asgard once stood, it’s her.”

“Why would we want to go there?”

“This Tree of Life, you cannot be too far away from it, can you.” Stephen took down the empty bag, his mind a million miles away. “I need to get you closer to it.”

Loki frowned. “But I am already as close to Yggdrasil as I can get. The Nine – ” he corrected himself, “The Eight Realms are at equidistance to each other and to Yggdrasil. I don’t see what you’re trying to achieve…?”

That snapped Stephen back to the present. “But you said Yggdrasil is lost?”

“It is lost to _me_ , Stephen,” Loki said gently. “It’s like…the peach.”

Stephen stared. “The peach.”

“It’s there but I can’t eat it.”

Stephen’s lips parted.

“It’s there but I can’t use it.” That was all Loki could manage by way of explanation.

“I’m…faulty. And I don’t know why,” Loki whispered.

Stephen sank heavily into the cushioned bench next to him. He wrapped his arm around the back of his husband’s shoulders, only realising that he was still wearing his sterile gloves, but that only made him hold Loki tighter.

“Then I’ll take you to Vanaheim.”

“Vanaheim?”

“Thor suggested as much, said there are sorcerers on Vanaheim who may be able to help.” Stephen pressed his lips to Loki’s temple. “He is very worried about you. And so am I.”

Loki stared at his hands in his lap. His veins stood out stark and blue like a man starved.  

“And you think Jane Foster can help?”

“Yes. I’m going tomorrow with Thor. He insisted on coming with me to see her.”

“Thor would do that for me?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes welled. “You guys are mad.”

Stephen kissed the tears away, eyelid by eyelid. “And don’t you forget that.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Pappa!”

So much for watching Thor and his husband partake in their hearty breakfast in peace.

“What is it, Stian?”

“Have you seen my Iron Man water tumbler? The one that can make my juice really, really cold when I press the button at the top, and really, really hot when I press the button at the bottom?”

_In the deepest, darkest corner of my pocket universe where you can never hope to see it again, let alone drink out of it._

“I haven’t seen it darling but maybe you can use the Hulk one Uncle Bruce gave you?”

“Okay…” With a glum expression, Stian zapped out of sight with a swirl of blue sparkles –

Only to pop back into existence moments later.

“Pappa, where’s my riding helmet?”

“Exactly where you left it the last time you came back from riding, darling.”

Stian just stared at him expectantly with eyes as innocent as anything.

Loki rolled his eyes. “On the kitchen counter next to the sink. Do have a care where you put your things, Stian.”

“Pappa, have you seen my new watch?” Stian bellowed from somewhere inside the house.

“What new watch?”

“The one Uncle Tony gave me yesterday! My Spy Mission watch!”

_Oh Norns give me strength_

“It should be on the table next to the scary painting in Daddy’s study!” Loki came close to hollering, something he had never actually done before. And Stephen was hardly helping, guffawing into his morning coffee like a Cheshire cat. “Again, exactly where you left it!”

“Pappa, I can’t find it!”

“Oh, for Heavens’ sake!”

He blinked out of his seat and popped into Stephen’s study just in time to see Stian attempting to climb a tower of precious-looking books he had stacked up against the wall, and Loki caught his son just as he fell with a yelp, “Pappa!”

Loki dumped his eldest into Stephen’s armchair with a growl, “What did you think you were doing?”

Stian pointed. Loki followed the direction of his finger, and came face to face with the glowering visage of Yama Dharmapala. Of all the Thankas Stephen could have brought home from The Ancient One’s vast collection, he had to choose this one.

Loki removed the white khata scarf Stephen had draped over the ancient Tibetan painting to get to the hook from which it was mounted, where peculiarly, was also where Stian’s new watch was hanging.

“How in the world did it get up there if you couldn’t reach it in the first place?” he muttered.

“Daddy taught me a spell that makes things move with just the power of my mind!” Stian chirped. “It was really cool.”

“Uh-uh. And you couldn’t use the power of your mind to take this down?” He handed it over to Stian, whose eyes lit up in delight at the sight of the latest gadget his ever-doting Uncle Tony had given him. It was the fanciest kids’ watch Loki had ever seen, and he had a suspicion there were too many buttons on that thing for it to be completely child-friendly.

Stian’s sentient stomach growled in reply. He smiled at Loki sheepishly. “I’m not magic when I’m hungry.”

Loki looked his son up and down critically. He could not quite decide which line of questioning to pursue first, so he went for the most parentally important. “Why are you all dressed up? Are you going somewhere?”

Stian looked up and his unbuckled riding helmet fell forward over his eyes, “Isn’t Uncle Thor taking me out riding?”

Loki shook his head slowly. “No…Uncle Thor’s just here to have breakfast with Daddy.”

“Whaaat?” For someone whose magic required three square meals a day to work, Stian disappeared out of sight pretty quickly, and Loki soon found himself standing in the middle of an empty study.

Well. Empty-ish.

Books and magic texts lay strewn on the table, most of them dog-eared and likely very ancient. Stacks upon stacks of books stood at precarious angles to each other against the wall like a badly-played game of Jenga. There were even books under the table, and on Loki’s personal reading chair next to the window, where he used to sit whenever he felt like watching Stephen at work.  

Stephen was deep in research, that was obvious. Loki picked a tome off the floor and ran a hand across the embossed gold lettering on the cover.

 _Lacnunga,_ he read.He picked up another one. _Wið færstice._

These were old medical texts on Anglo-Saxon healing practices, mainly written in Old English and Latin, and they contained largely sacred prayers, charms, healing spells – when did Stephen ever find the time to read all this?

An image of Stephen burning the midnight oil, perusing text after text after text, flashed through Loki’s mind like a vision, and a flutter of butterflies took flight inside him.

_Oh Stephen._

Loki glanced at Yama again. The Wrathful God of Death stared back at him with his big, bulging eyes.

If Loki stared at it long enough, he could imagine himself being back in Kamar-Taj. He took a deep, long breath. He could even _smell_ the incense she used to burn all the time –

“You’ll watch over him for me, won’t you?” he murmured. “O Holy Guardian of the Dead and Mighty Protector against Evil Spirits?”

Yama did not answer.

Loki placed Stephen’s books back on the table and closed the door behind him. He was going to talk Stephen into ‘borrowing’ one of the paintings from the London Sanctum and hanging that in the study instead.

When Loki walked back out onto the patio, Stian was sitting in Thor’s lap and already in the last stages of sulking.

“Uncle Thor, are you sure I can’t come?” From the exasperated look on his husband’s face, their son must have asked the same question repeatedly. “I promise I won’t give you or Daddy any trouble.”

Thor, ever the saintly Uncle, only smiled patiently. “I’m afraid not, my Sweet Prince.”

Stian glumly picked at the waffle in his hand. “I think Finnglas misses me. I dreamt of her yesterday.”

Thor gave Stephen a questioning look. Stephen in turn looked at Loki, but it was the Valkyrie who contributed the answer her King was seeking.

“His pony, Majesty.”

“Ah.” Thor nodded.

Loki gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll take him.”

Stephen was about to shake his head to object when the Valkyrie once again came to the rescue. “I’ll take him, Highness. I don’t trust that you won’t be tempted to ride yourself, and really, it’s too early in the morning to be picking up anything that might fall out of you if you insist on riding in your current condition.”

As always, the Valkyrie’s vulgar sense of humour could put a dampener on anybody’s appetite. Stephen put down his fork and shot her a warning look, which she ceremoniously ignored. She held out a hand. “Come on, Little Prince.”

Stian looked to his parents uncertainly. At the sight of his hazel eyes, made to appear bigger by the crown of glossy hair clinging to the sides of his face underneath his one-size-too-big helmet, Loki melted. He could never say no to his little equestrian.

“Go with Lady Val, Stian.” He reached to tuck his son’s hair behind his ears. Stian’s hair was getting long. Stephen must be distracted to not have cut it already. “And be careful.”

“Now what am I going to do for the rest of the day?” Loki complained loudly.

“Aífe's got her swimming lesson today, why don’t you go and see that?” Stephen suggested.

If Stian’s eyes could melt people’s hearts to puddles of goo, then maybe Loki’s could too. “Can I not come with you, husband?”

“You’re not off your four-hourly morphine and blood glucose monitoring yet, Loki.” Stephen used his sternest, hotshot surgeon-voice. “Technically you should still be on bed rest.”

“Technically,” Loki murmured. As if he would be deterred by something as totalitarian as manmade technicalities.

So the eye thing did not work on his husband. It might just work on Thor. “Thor, you know I am quite fond of Jane Foster myself. Can’t I come?”

Apparently, Stephen’s immunity to Loki’s charm had rubbed off on him too. “Maybe next time, Brother.”

Stephen searched for Loki’s hand under the table and patted it gently. “You want me to get you anything while I’m away?”

“Some edible gold leaf would be nice,” Loki muttered viciously. “It should be inert enough for my delicate, four-hourly stomach.”

“Now, now, Loki…”

“ ‘Now, now me’ again and I will set fire to your hair while you sleep,” Loki said irritably.

Thor’s look of alarm was met with an unperturbed shake of the head. “Low blood sugar. Ignore him.”

Thor’s hand ghosted over his crude crew cut anyway. “Better yours than mine, Stephen. Haven’t got much of it left.”

____________________________________

_Faculty of Astronomy, Astrology and Cosmology. Lund University, Sweden._

 

“Thor! Over here!”

They heard the pattering of heels clacking against the floor and a flurry of dark brown hair hid Thor momentarily from view as Darcy threw her arms around him in a hug. “It’s been years, Thor! Glad to see you’re still alive!”

Thor laughed. “Glad to see you’re still alive too, Darcy.”

“This is the Lady Darcy, Jane’s assistant.” Thor waved his hand by means of introduction. “And this is Dr Stephen Strange.”

“It’s Dr Darcy now, but Lady Darcy is also fine –” she blushed and held a hand out, “Jane’s once-assistant but yes, Darcy Lewis.”

Nodding briskly, Stephen shook her hand. “Dr Lewis.”

“Oh my. He feels magic. Is he magic?” She ran her eyes appreciatively down Thor’s biceps. “Muscle and magic. Jane always attracts the guys.” She shook her head and her glasses slid down a fraction. “Come this way, gentlemen. She’s expecting you.”

She pushed her glasses up her nose and continued chattering away as she led them down the corridor. “These are for decoration, Thor. Ian says they make me look smarter. Not that I need to look any smarter than I already am, but I think they look good on me.”

“They do.”

They stopped in front of a door. “Dunno if it’s going to be a slap or a kiss now Thor but be ready.”

Thor emulated Darcy’s impromptu deep-breathing exercise. “I’m ready.”

No one was more surprised than he to find that it was to be neither; Jane Foster rose from her chair and closed the distance between them in as few footsteps as she could manage, and soon Thor found himself the recipient of a tight, floral embrace.

“Jane.” He breathed in her familiar scent. It felt the same holding her, even after all these years.

“Oh, Thor.” She released him and looked up. Immediately her forehead crinkled into a deep frown. “Your eyes…”

“Long story.” Thor smiled tightly. He took in her shoulder-length hairstyle, now more a chestnut shade of brown. It made her look even more petite than he remembered. “You look…well.”

“I am well.”

Thor set his jaws and gathered his courage. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

“Yes. You didn’t come.” Jane Foster was nothing if not direct.

“I didn’t get an invitation.”

“It was a paperless wedding, Thor. All the invitations were sent via email.”

“Ah.” Stephen could not help it. “Electronic letter, Thor.”

 _“Ah.”_ Thor looked instantly crushed. “Well. A bit too late to do anything about that.”

Jane looked expectantly at the man standing next to him.

Thor clapped a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Jane, I’d like you to meet Dr Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Also my Brother-in-Law.”

The sudden noise of surprise had them all turn –

“Thank you, Darcy. That will be all.” Jane looked pointedly at her colleague.

“Aww, what?” Darcy had been so quiet too, hoping that no one would notice her standing in the far corner, which was a feat in itself. She looked at Stephen with new eyes. Loki’s husband, huh. “I can’t stay?”

“I’ll buzz you if I need you.”

Darcy sighed. “Alright.” She flashed Thor a brilliant smile. “Good to see you, Thor.”

As soon as Darcy closed the door behind her, Jane gestured for her guests to sit. She hastily gathered all her books and papers from her desk to her bosom, and dumped them all onto an armchair in one corner of the office room, that would have been quite spacious had it not been for all her research material. “Sorry about the mess. I know I’m supposed to be on sabbatical leave but I ended up immersing myself in more work than I intended.”

“So.” She pulled the swivelling office chair closer in and clasped her hands neatly on the newly-cleared table. “How can I be of help? From the way you talked on the phone, it sounded important. You being here is testimony to that.”

“It is.”

Jane listened intently without interrupting, the gradual tightening of her delicate features the only indication of the rapid whirring her brilliant mind must be doing in her head.

“Theoretically, I can get you where you want to go.” She rubbed a finger along the longitudinal axis of her lower lip. “In practice it might not be so easy.”

“But the technology exists, I have seen the evidence of it myself, back in New York with the Chitauri army, and in Greenwich when we fought against the Dark Elves?”

“No, no, it does! I just mean –” Jane patted the air in a gesture that looked both placating and begging for discretion.

“She means hush hush, Thor.”

Thor nodded distractedly, his eyes lighting up with the first glimmer of excitement – “So it is feasible, Jane?”

Jane nodded. “Erik’s been traveling back and forth from here to Culver –”

“He’s still teaching?” Thor sounded surprised. “Would have thought him retired by now.”

“Visiting professor. He’s still as brilliant as ever, so…lucky for us he never stopped working huh?”

Jane’s voice dropped a notch. “Much of Erik’s previous works had either been confiscated or destroyed, but we’ve been working together in secret and perfecting his magnetic vortex generator machine. If you had asked me last year, I would not have thought it possible, but now I dare say we have even reached the testing phase.”

“Your wormhole generator,” Stephen contributed for Thor’s sake without prompting. “It’s…here?”

“The prototype, yes.”

Stephen sank back in his chair. Could it be? Could this be it?

“It’s right next door, actually.”

Now even Thor was sinking in his chair. He exchanged stunned looks with Stephen.

“Well.” Stephen cleared his throat. “Good thing we’re in Sweden, I take it? Technically, we wouldn’t be breaking any law.”

“Technically,” Jane agreed. “From the legal point of view, of course. The practical part is where it can get tricky. There is still the matter of obtaining an energy source powerful enough to open a portal that traverses multiple galaxies.”

“Fear not, Jane,” Thor reassured her proudly. “You haven’t seen my new hammer.” Jane raised an eyebrow.

“And we can never be sure where we might end up landing…unless there is something that can tether us to Vanaheim?” Jane began going down her list of prerequisites for their intergalactic travel. “Something that can hone us in on the targeted destination?”

Stephen fidgeted in his seat. He tried to think. “Would your Mother’s corsage do? Loki gave it to me to wear on our wedding day.”

“You sure it came from Vanaheim?”

“Yes. I caught glimpses of Vanaheim when I read it.”

“You…read…it?”

“Psychometry, Dr Foster-Laurie.” Stephen met the doubt in her eyes head-on. “Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Jane shrugged. “I’m sure we can work around that. You are able to amplify its magical signature of course? PCR the hell out of it so the portal locks onto Vanaheim, and not any of the other realms you would rather not go? I don’t know if I can ever get you back if you get lost.”

Stephen mimicked her shrug. “Sure. I should be able to do that.”

Jane nodded in satisfaction, before moving on to the next criterion. “And then there is the matter of fitness to travel.”

She hesitated. “It is not as simple as walking through a portal from Asgard to Sweden. No offense, I’m sure your portals are very handy and keep excellent timing –” she tipped her head toward Stephen, who raised a long-suffering eyebrow of his own. “We need to make sure Loki is not only strong enough for the journey to Vanaheim, but also strong enough to return.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“I’ve travelled on the Bifrost, Thor. I know what it feels like. The sheer density of dimensional energy needed to open and stabilise the portal can tear him to pieces if we’re not careful.”

Jane clammed her lips, as though unsure if she could ask but knowing she needed to. “How ill is he?”

“He’s…functional. But still dependent on regular pain meds and continuous infusion of intravenous nutrition round the clock,” Stephen surmised. “But he’s not bedridden or anything. Tongue as ascerbic as ever.”

“I bet,” Jane said drily.

“We need to try it out first, before making the big leap. When can you get him here?”

“I’m here, Jane Foster.” A crisp voice suddenly drifted in from one shadowy corner of the room.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice may boom off the four walls but he could not even manage to look surprised anymore.

Stephen was not as calm. “Will you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That fly-on-the-wall thing!” Stephen’s eyes flashed angrily. “I don’t know how it was back in Asgard but here it is considered quite rude to eavesdrop on people!”

“As rude as talking about someone behind their back when you could have easily included him in the conversation?” With a wave of his hand, the stack of papers and books on the spare armchair arranged themselves into a neat pile on the windowsill, and without waiting for an invitation, Loki sat himself down in the now-empty chair.

“Loki,” Jane said his name with a wince. The last she saw of him, he was drawing his last breath in Thor’s arms on the desolate fields of Svartalfheim. “You look well.”

Stephen could not stop glaring at his husband. Loki looked picture-perfect in his striking black suit and not a hair out of place. “Don’t let it fool you. He’s wearing a glamour.”

Thor merely heaved a longanimous sigh.

“I swear if you’ve ripped your neck line out – ”

“Stephen.” Loki shut him up with a look. He tugged on his collar to reveal the ports, temporarily plugged with plastic caps. “It’s still intact, see? Do calm yourself down. It’s quite unbecoming.”

Giving Stephen no chance to respond in kind, Loki clapped his hands. “Shall we? It’s next door, did you say?”

“You – we’re – ” Jane shot out of her seat. “We’re doing it now?”

“No time like the present.” Loki was already out the door.

“Still as turbulent as ever.”

Thor nodded. She got it in one. “As ever.”

____________________________________________

“You're sure this is quite safe.” Thor looked up and around the high-vaulted containment area with its massive pyrite and haematite-impregnated pillars to neutralise whatever electromagnetic radiation her various intimidating-looking machines might give off.

When Jane said next door, he thought she had meant another room. He certainly did not expect such a vast open space the size of an ice hockey arena.

“There is never any guarantee, Thor,” she said lightly. “You can wear the biggest umbrella in the world but you can still get wet, can’t you.” Her fingers moved in rapid strokes across the panel. “All we can do is make sure that the rain falls directly on you instead of at an angle…”

“Darcy?”

“Yeah?” A disembodied voice spoke over the speaker.

“We’re all set and good to go.”

“Got it,” Darcy’s tinny voice chirped. “Make sure the portal opens up on level ground. Don’t want anything falling splat onto my brand-new associate-professor carpet.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

“We’re not going straight to Vanaheim?” Loki looked at the circular platform in front of him. It looked eerily similar to the platform he landed on all those years ago when Loki helped himself to the Tesseract and botched Nick Fury’s prized P.E.G.A.S.U.S. project.

“Oh no. We’ll start somewhere domestic. And by domestic, I mean Darcy’s office down the hall.”

“I’ll go first.” Stephen announced.

Loki looked at him sharply.

“I won’t fall splat on anybody’s carpet. I can fly,” he said coolly. “You’ll get your chance, dear.”

Loki sniffed, but said nothing.

“You can step on the platform now, Doctor.” Jane nodded to him. “Thor, a little help?”

Thor raised a hand and sparks of electricity began to sizzle from the ends of his fingers like raw wires. He placed his palm down onto a flat, energy converter panel the size and shape of a baseball home plate.

“See you on the other side.” Stephen gave a wink, which Loki returned with a weak smile.

Jane pressed a button and with a smooth, whooshing sound, Stephen simply disappeared.

“Darcy?”

“The guy with the cape? Yeah, he’s here, safe and sound.” A brief pause. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” they all heard Stephen say. He sounded a little breathless. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, Doctor. Collect all your pieces, because the return portal’s coming right…” Jane pressed another button, “Up.”

When Stephen rematerialized, Loki was quick to jump onto the platform. At the look of concern in Loki’s eyes, Stephen grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers gently. “I’m alright, Loki.”

 But he wobbled slightly walking down the steps – “That was some rush.”

“Bad rush or good rush?” Jane asked.

Stephen blinked. Finally, he shrugged. “Good. Rollercoasters used to be my thing.”

Jane smiled in relief.

“Brother, are you sure you are up for this?” Out of everyone, Thor seemed to be the only one still having reservations. Granted, he was used to running headlong into things, ‘fight first, ask questions later’ used to be his favourite way of doing things – “Any other ill effects we should know about?”

Jane shook her head slowly. “There shouldn’t be…unless you have a cardiac pacemaker or implantable cardiac device that we don’t know about? Electromagnetic interference can happen in such circumstances.”

Loki shook his head. “Never had one put in, I don’t think.” He thought harder just to be sure. “Yeah. No. Not in this lifetime or in any of the ones before.”

“Alright then,” Jane said cheerily. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Jane Foster.”

“Darcy. One God of Mischief coming through!”

“Oh _goody_.” After a beat, “The handsome one?”

“Is there any other?” Loki purred. He cocked his head, and directed his question at Jane. “She hasn’t met me, has she?”

“Well, she’s about to, in three, two – ” And Loki disappeared with a poof.

When Loki opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of a nondescript office room. A mortal woman stood a few feet away.

“Hello.” His voice sounded thick to his own ears. The blood was still roaring in his ears as his heart thundered in his chest.

“So you’re Loki, huh?” Darcy stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. She had only ever seen him in pictures but boy, they did not do him justice. She knew she should keep her awe in check, this was Thor’s crazy brother after all, but –

“Hey. You okay?” She took a hesitant step forward.

“Darcy?” Jane’s voice crackled over the speakers.

“What?” Loki was slurring. His tongue felt thick, like it was too big for his mouth. His heart was still _pounding_ , and the roar no one else seemed to hear was earth-shatteringly loud.

A trembling hand rose to clutch his chest. “I don’t – ” And his knees buckled.

“Oh shit!” Darcy yelled, leaping forward to catch him but the weight was simply too much for her, and she dropped to her own knees – _“Jane!!!”_

___________________________________

It must have only been fifteen seconds at most, but to Darcy it seemed like forever; when footsteps thundered down the corridor and barrelled their way into her office, she had laid Loki out on the floor.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, he was fine, and talking, and then he just keeled over,” Darcy jumped to her feet and backward, giving Stephen the space he needed.

“Loki?” Stephen laid a hand on his husband’s clammy forehead. Loki’s eyes flew open at the touch, but they were glazed and empty. His bluish lips worked to form words but none came forth.

_“Loki, can you hear me?”_

Loki nodded jerkily.

_“Loki, what is it? Is it your stomach again?”_

Loki shook his head weakly.

_“My…chest.”_

Stephen prodded the side of Loki’s neck and his fingers came upon a very fast and thready pulse. He whipped his head around.

“Do you have an AED machine?” Darcy and Jane exchanged looks. Stephen pressed, “A portable defibrillator?”

“There’s one in the lab next door.” Darcy broke into a run.

Stephen fumbled with Loki’s neck tie and buttons but at the sight of Darcy running back in with the AED machine, he simply ripped Loki’s shirt apart to expose his chest.

In his distress, Loki’s glamour had failed and if any of them was shocked at the sight of the gnarly scars on Loki’s abdomen, no one said a thing. Stephen placed the pads on Loki’s upper right chest and over his lowermost left ribs.

It took him only a few seconds to read the rhythm scrolling across the panel. It was textbook supraventricular tachycardia, but with a heart rate of nearly 300 beats per minute, how Loki was still conscious was a wonder in itself. “It’s an SVT.”

“A what?” Darcy and Thor exclaimed in synchrony.

“Heart’s beating abnormally fast, it’s putting the heart muscle under a lot of strain, causing the pain.”

“Does he need an ambulance?” Came from Jane, always thinking ahead. She grabbed a few labcoats hanging on the wall and balled them up before stuffing the entire thing under Loki’s legs, elevating them off the floor.

“No…not just yet.” Stephen shook his head. “I’m going to try something.”

He tilted Loki’s neck backward and slightly over to one side. He located the carotid pulsation once more and began massaging it gently against the bony underside of Loki’s jaw.

“Does any of you know how to perform a carotid sinus massage?”

Jane raised her hand.

“Yeah, I need you to take over soon, in case this manoeuvre doesn’t work, I’m going to have to try something else.”

At the sight of Loki’s lashes fluttering, Stephen barked, “Loki, don’t fall asleep!”

After ten seconds of massaging Loki’s carotid artery, the rhythm on the cardiac monitor did not change. “I need you to do it on the other side now, Dr Foster.”

Jane nodded curtly and took her place on Loki’s other side. His skin was ice-cold to the touch, and his pulse was fluttering away rapidly underneath her fingers like a caged bird.

“Ten seconds, then shift sides.”

“Okay,” she breathed out. “Here goes nothing.”

“Is he having a heart attack?” Thor demanded.

“No, he’s not. Not yet,” Stephen said tersely. He muttered a spell under his breath, and pulled an oversized black carryall out of thin air. “But if we don’t get his heart rate under control, he just might.”

Loki groaned softly. “Thor…”

“I’m here, Brother.” If Thor was only going to be good at one thing, let it be being of comfort to his brother. He grasped Loki’s clammy fingers and squeezed them gently. “You’re going to be alright.”

Stephen rummaged through his emergency kit and soon had a few syringes and vials of medication laid out.

“What’s that?” Jane’s fingers had now shifted to the other side of Loki’s neck.

“Adenosine,” Stephen murmured, praying very hard that a Jotunn’s cardiac physiology was not all that different from a human. If the medication failed to convert the arrhythmia back to the normal sinus rhythm, there was definitely going to be trouble.

Darcy helped him tear open the sterile packaging and syringe out the medication when Stephen’s hands trembled too much. She rolled up the sleeve of Loki’s jacket right up to where Stephen pointed, indicating that the vein he wanted had already come into view against the milky whiteness of Loki’s arm.

“You might experience a bit of flushing, or difficulty catching a breath when this goes in, but it should all pass, okay, Loki?” Stephen watched as a bead of cold sweat trickle down the side of Loki’s face as he nodded. “You can stop now, Jane.”

“Sharp prick.” Stephen pushed the medication in rapidly into a vein at the inner bend of Loki’s elbow.

And in a matter of seconds, the incessant beeping of the alarm on the AED machine ceased, giving way to the familiar staccato of the normal sinus rhythm. Stephen felt his breath leave his chest in a whoosh. “He’s cardioverted.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I take it whatever you gave him worked?” Darcy asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Stephen sank onto his haunches in relief, and at the same time, reached to feel for the pulse at Loki’s wrist. “Heart rate’s back to normal.”

“Oh my God.” Darcy dropped onto the floor next to him and sat cross-legged, looking every inch the young intern she used to be. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my life, but that was _intense_.”

Stephen suddenly felt exhausted. He no longer cared that he was surrounded by people he had just met. He flopped onto the floor and lay down next to his husband. He groped for Loki’s hand and felt the reciprocal squeeze, weak but reassuring. “Welcome to my life, Dr Lewis.”

“You okay there, darling?” Stephen knocked his forehead gently into the side of Loki’s head.

“Are we there yet?” Loki murmured, his face no longer as pale, lips no longer as blue. He opened his eyes slowly, and looked around him in confusion. “This is not Vanaheim.”

“I’m afraid it’s not, Brother,” Thor said grimly.

Loki blinked blearily. “Okay. So, no go.”

Thor shook his head. “No go.”

Loki heaved a sigh. “I can try again.”

 _“No!”_ Thor, Stephen and Jane shouted in unison.

“Damn it.” Loki closed his eyes again. “Damn it all to Hel.”

Stephen could not agree more. But he could not bring himself to say it. “We’ll find another way, Loki.”

Loki nuzzled his head against Stephen’s. He too, cared not for watching eyes. He was too exhausted to care. He murmured. “Will we.”

A rough kiss landed on his forehead. “We _will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember if Darcy and Loki ever met, but if they had, please pretend they haven't. Thank you for reading! Still more to come~~


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's Make-A-Wish Foundation keeps on giving, Thor goes on a trip, and bad things always happen when Loki sleeps alone.

Despite his best effort to stand on his two feet, it took Loki several minutes to regain enough of his bearing to begin gently pulling away from his husband. Jane could scarcely believe her eyes as she took in the sight of Loki’s sallow complexion and the taut skin stretched tight over the bony structures of his face, making him appear skeletal; it was a testament to how much Loki’s glamour was concealing.

“Should I get you some water or something?” she asked uncertainly. It was apparent that their experiments were to go no further, not when Loki looked like he was going to vomit at any time.

“Do you think you can drink some water?” Stephen asked quietly. When Loki immediately shook his head, Stephen heaved a small sigh. “Yeah, thought so.”

He could tell from the way Loki was starting to hunch that the abdominal pains were coming back, and nothing was likely to stay down for long, not even water. “Thor, I think it’s time we head back.”

Thor nodded. “You go on ahead, there are things I would like to discuss further with Lady Jane.”

Loki pulled his jacket tighter around himself. No doubt they had seen his scars, these mortal women, and if he was not feeling so spent, he would have teleported out of there long ago. That Darcy woman was staring at him with such a bewildered expression Loki wondered if he had not reverted to his Jotunn form at any point during his funny turn.

He would have to ask Stephen about that later. But right now, he needed to get home, needed to kiss his children, needed to lie down and sleep and not wake up –

“Stephen,” he murmured.

“I’m afraid we will have to continue our conversation later, Dr Foster,” Stephen said with a hint of regret in his voice. “But thank you, for all your help.”

“Wish I could do more to help,” Jane said, looking on helplessly as Thor took one of Loki’s arms to hold him steady as the heat of the portal sent him reeling. The knowing look she shared with Darcy across the room was one of the same opinion; Thor’s brother was in no shape to travel anywhere.

Loki may have returned to Asgard without protest, but to steer him in the Healing Halls’ direction instead of their own apartments was no easy feat. Loki found the idea of being cooped up once again in his sickbed so disagreeable had he been at his full strength the fight could have easily become physical.

“Loki, it’s just for one night. I need to make sure your heart’s okay and there’s not going to be any recurrence of the palpitations you had.”

Ignoring Loki’s barrage of ‘I’m fine’s and ‘There’s nothing wrong with my damn heart’s, Stephen made one last appeal to his husband’s transient yet inherently present spirit of compassion to make him see sense. “Loki, please…do you want me to lose sleep over this?”

Stephen’s warm hand grasping the back of his neck made Loki look him in the eye, “Can you not do this one thing for me?”

Loki threw his hands up in frustration. What had become of him, that he was to give in so easily every single time? “Strange, whatever geas you’ve placed on me, lift it!”

“There’s no geas, no magic spells,” Stephen said quietly. “Just a man who is really, really worried about his husband.”

The tender hand cupping the side of Loki’s face was the final nail in the coffin. “His one and only husband.”

The protests died in his throat. What came out instead was a sigh.

“The things I do for you, Strange.”

“Scary, isn’t it.” The unspoken grief in Stephen’s eyes was unmistakable. “Scares me too.”

Loki’s heart twisted in pain. He palmed Stephen’s hand against his cheek, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. To think he used to take these little things for granted, things like simple touches of the hand, the light brush of Stephen’s lips on his forehead in the morning, the smell of Stephen’s aftershave –

_How much longer?_

Loki’s eyes welled.

“You’re my one and only husband too,” he whispered.

Stephen smiled bravely. He kissed Loki quickly on the lips. If he was not careful, Loki was going to charm the hell out of him, instead of the other way around. “Come on,” he said roughly.

But the sight awaiting him in the Healing Halls stopped him in his tracks. “Where did this come from?”

Loki’s eyes lit up in delight. Stark did not disappoint, he thought with approval.

A Healer fidgeted uncertainly like a deer caught in the headlights. “But Your Highness, Lord Anthony Stark had this delivered today, said it was on your orders?”

“I never –” Stephen tore his eyes away from the massive, super king-sized hospital bed. It looked ridiculously expensive and suspiciously custom made. He caught the sight of Loki’s widening smile; for someone so reluctant to spend a night in the ward, Loki looked suspiciously cheery all of a sudden. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Who, me?” Loki blinked innocently; if there was any doubt in Stephen’s mind about who Stian took after the most, it vanished in that instant.

He walked over slowly to the bed and sat himself down. He nodded once more in approval. “This feels almost as nice as our bed. Or nicer. I can’t quite tell.”

“Care to join me, Husband?” Loki’s smile may look relaxed but the tight lines at the corner of his eyes did not escape Stephen’s notice.

He sighed, and signalled for Loki to lie back, before climbing onto the bed himself. Loki was right. It did feel nice. It was always and only the best for his friends with Tony, and despite his initial dismay, Stephen liked the thought of Loki and Tony finally becoming actual friends.

“Will you stay here with me tonight?” Loki murmured, after he had changed out of his torn shirt and suit jacket into a gown.

Stephen placed the last of the electrodes onto his chest that would monitor Loki’s heart rhythm for the duration of the night. “Hmm?”

“Stay with me?”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?” Stephen checked the TPN site for any leakage or signs of infection, but there was none. At least whoever Loki had coerced into helping him had temporarily plugged the ports correctly and aseptically. “I need to check on the children.”

“Okay,” Loki said softly. He laid his head on Stephen’s chest. Good thing the central line was in the left side of his neck, or else it would have messed up their natural sleeping arrangement; he always slept better if he could listen to Stephen’s heartbeat as he drifted off to sleep.  

“Does your chest still hurt?”

Loki shook his head.

“How’s the pain in your belly?”

“Tolerable.”

Stephen’s fingers that had been playing with the hair at his temple stilled. “You want me to increase the morphine dose?”

Loki shook his head again. “No, let it be. I need it. If only to remind me that I’m still alive.”

Stephen had heard that line before.

The soft beep-beep of Loki’s heart monitor filled the silence.

“I’ll schedule an appointment to get you to see a cardiologist.” Stephen’s low voice rumbled in his chest.

Loki closed his eyes. No matter how he tried to convince himself that whatever was happening to him was just a figment of his imagination, his body never failed to betray him one way or another, just to prove him wrong.

“So now my heart is failing too, huh?” Loki wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to. Not when Stephen was trying so hard to put on a brave face, just for him.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Stephen.” He knew how badly Stephen wanted Plan Vanaheim to work.

Stephen stared down at him incredulously. Loki raised his head to meet his gaze.

 _“I’m_ sorry, Loki.” The grief had returned to Stephen’s eyes once more.

There were no other words.

“Maybe…” Loki’s voice cracked. “Maybe there is no fixing me, Stephen.”

The grief turned to cold, hard _fury –_

A loud, resounding, “NO.”

 _–_ and fear. _“No.”_

_“Stephen…”_

“I won’t surrender.” Stephen kissed his forehead fiercely. “I won’t.”

Loki stared at his husband long and hard; despite the heavy pull of sleep tugging on his eyelids, he had never been more afraid to close his eyes.

_How much longer?_

As their lips met in a tender, deep kiss, the question played over and over in his head like a broken record.

_How much longer do I have with you?_

___________________________________________

“Stephen?” A quiet voice woke him from a dreamless yet restless slumber.

“Hmm?” Stephen opened his eyes blearily. “Thor.”

Stephen carefully extricated his arm from under Loki’s head, quickly replacing it with a pillow. Loki did not stir. The soft beeping of the heart monitor did not pick up pace; he was fast asleep. Either it was the medication that knocked him out or he was truly exhausted.

Stephen suspected the latter. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You’re back.” He looked at the time. It was still early. He must have only fallen asleep for half an hour at most.

Thor studied his brother’s sleeping form. He hoped Loki looking that peaceful meant that he was free from pain. “Is he alright?”

Stephen studied the holographic panel where Loki’s latest vital signs were recorded. Everything looked normal. “Yeah.”

He frowned. Thor was all dressed up in his armour, Stormbreaker in one hand.

At Stephen’s questioning look, Thor spoke in a hushed voice. “I thought I’d come to say goodbye.”

“Where are you going?”

“Vanaheim.”

Stephen sat up straighter. “I’m coming with you.”

Thor raised a hand. “No. You will stay here with Loki.”

“But, Thor –”

“You will not leave him.” There was no room for contestation in his voice. It was a royal command and he wanted Stephen to know it.

At Stephen’s crestfallen face, Thor laid a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I will go it alone, Brother. And fear not, I will be among friends and family. I will bring back help.”

He squeezed Stephen’s shoulder none too gently. “I will not fail you.”

For all the conviction in Thor’s voice, Stephen could not help the doubt from clouding his eyes, at the sight of which, Thor felt compelled to smile in the most reassuring way as possible.  

“Freyja is the most powerful vǫlva in all the realms, Stephen. The most skilled in magic, on par with our Mother and perhaps, The Allfather himself. She will certainly be able to help.”

“Freyja won’t help me, Thor,” a quiet voice joined the conversation.

Thor was not surprised to see Loki awake at all. Perhaps he had been half-listening in his sleep all along. “She is our Aunt, Loki. Of course she will.”

Loki gave a mirthless laughter. “You may have forgotten the kind of menace I used to be but I doubt the Goddess Freyja would be so easy as to forgive and forget, Thor.”

“I was a little shit, basically,” he added helpfully, in response to the unspoken question in his husband’s eyes.

But Thor was undeterred. “Then I will find somebody who will. It doesn’t have to be Freyja.” His eyes were hard. “Anybody will do, Loki. At this point, I no longer care who it is.”

Loki stared.

“Okay?” Thor’s voice boomed.

Finally, Loki gave his brother way, and a soft, gentle smile. “Okay, Thor,” he relented. “Okay.”

Thor beamed, and nodded. “Well, I’m off then.”

Thor and Stephen shared a warm, knowing handshake.

“Be careful,” Loki murmured. His brother’s large hand felt just as warm on his face as Stephen’s had been. “I won’t be there to get you out of trouble.”

“It’s my turn to get you out this time, Brother,” he said fondly. Then his eyes turned serious. “Please don’t die before I get back.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I can say the same to you.” Then his eyes clouded over.

“Thor…” he hesitated. “May I hold Mother’s brooch for a while?” He knew Thor needed it to get to Vanaheim, but he needed to see it, if only for one last time –

“Of course, Brother.” Thor fished the piece of jewelry out of the pouch at his waist. It shone even in the dimness of the nightlight. “Here.”

Loki held the emerald corsage in his palm, while his other hand ghosted over the countless tiny yet brilliant gemstones that made up the Valerian flower. For years it had been kept in his pocket universe, untouched and forgotten.

“I miss her,” he whispered.

Thor’s voice was gruff but not unkind. “I’m sure she misses you too, Loki.”

Loki sniffed and handed the treasure to his brother. “Well. No matter what, do not lose it! And bring it back in one piece.” His eyes then glinted with a spark of old mischief. “And while you’re at it, do bring back a wife, Thor.”

Thor laughed. “I am no longer that easily distracted by the sight of pretty wenches, Loki.”

“Pretty Vanir wenches,” Loki corrected.

“They may be great beauties, these Vanir women, but I will resist them all.” He was a man on a mission, and it was one he must not fail. Loki’s life depended on it.

“Goodbye, my beloved Brothers.”

No. Loki will not say goodbye. Not just yet.

“Till we meet again, Thor.”

____________________________________

 

“If you’ve got any theories, Wong, I’m all ears.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe…maybe Loki is just old?”

How was that not telling Stephen something he did not already know? “He is old.”

“No, I mean, _old_ old.” Wong hesitated. “Like Marley & Me old.”

Stephen stared at his friend in utter disbelief. “Did you just compare my husband to a dog?”

“Did you get the message? If yes, then yes, I did.” Wong added hurriedly, “And this is the part where I apologise.”

Stephen leaned back in his chair. “How could he have been strong enough to go up against The Avengers, and then fight alongside them as an ally, only to succumb to old age, if according to your theory, within the span of ten human years?”

“Did you not see Game of Thrones?” Wong countered. “Melisandre took off her necklace and she went from rocking it as a smoking hot witch, to a bag of bones within ten seconds flat.”

Stephen gripped his hair with both hands. “Wong!” He yelled.

“Okay, okay.” Wong held out a placating hand through the open portal. “Just bouncing off ideas here, Boss. Bouncing.”

Although he was not ready to let it go just yet, “But heart failure…that’s an old people’s thing, isn’t it?”

“It wasn’t heart failure, Wong. It was an arrythmia, triggered by the strong electromagnetic waves given off by the magnetic vortex generator.”

“Yeah. Which a fit, young heart, human or alien, should have been able to withstand.”

“He doesn’t wear his glamour around me and believe me, he looks younger than you all the time.”

“Your argument is flawed, Strange. The Ancient One was centuries old and the back of my hand had more wrinkles than her face. You are grasping at straws.”

“No.” Stephen shook his head. “You have to give me something else.”

No, it was not aging.

“Give me something else, Wong.” Something else to work with, something he could fight.

He could not fight aging for Loki. He could not fight the law of nature.

“A disease? An infection?”

“Bruce has run every test he could think of, and everything came back normal.”

“Normal for Midgardian diseases,” Wong said quietly. “Could still be a Jotunn one.”

He could never get used to seeing the look of frustration on his friend’s face; Stephen had always known what to do, always been one step ahead of everybody. “If only Loki is strong enough to travel, I would take him to Jotunnheim in a heartbeat. Now I just have to wait for Thor to come back with answers, or someone who could give me answers.”

“We have to read the clues, Strange.” Ever the methodical thinker, Wong played absently with the buttons on his Walkman. “Rewind. Go back. Read the clues.”

Loki falling pregnant with Aife despite his contraceptive spells.

Loki over-exerting his seidr at the Magic School, resulting in months-long illness before he finally recovered his magic on the Isle of Skye _–_

_No. Go back._

Was it Orri? Did Orri break Loki the first time? Did calling up his blood magic and nearly exsanguinating to death break him?

Or did Orri break Loki the second time when the curse came a-calling years later, superimposed with the worst attack of eclampsia and intracranial bleeding that no human woman could have survived?

Or maybe he had not gone back far enough. Maybe it was Mordo.

Or maybe it was _you_ , a voice said.

Had Loki been right when he said those terrible things all those weeks ago?

Stephen stared at his shaking hands. _Is it me? Am I the one –?”_

“Sometimes the answer is staring us right in the face.”

Stephen’s head jerked up.

He automatically looked at the wall and stared. “Yeah. Yama is not saying anything.”

Wong prodded gently. “Can’t you see into it?”

Stephen looked at him sharply.

“Your future?” Wong pressed. “Is…Loki in it?”

Stephen pursed his lips. “I can’t answer that, Wong. You know that.”

Wong sat back in his chair, looking satisfied. “I was not looking for an answer. It was purely rhetorical.”

Stephen had not given up hope, and that was all he needed to know.

There was still hope. “Well, let’s get to work, then! The books are not going to read themselves, Boss.” Wong plugged his earphones in. “Chop chop.”

________________________________________

Loki always dreaded dreaming. For all that he lacked in the power of clairvoyance and for all his reluctance to venture into the realm of foresight, his fantastical mind would overrule his psyche and torment him with dreams…premonitions, they often were. Warnings of things to come.

Of course, they would come in handy sometimes, and save his life often.

After the twins, he had dreamt not a single dream.

But now Loki found himself once again standing at the Grand Altar. An overwhelming brightness blinded him momentarily, before his dream eyes adjusted to the light and focused on the person standing in front of him –

Thor?

Loki turned to his side.

Stephen?

Stephen was black-tie perfection, looking breathtakingly handsome in a black, beautifully-fitted tuxedo, its fine satin lapel complementing the shine of the jewelled corsage at his breast.

Loki forced his eyes away and true enough, they were standing in front of the censer where they had said their wedding vows into the Fire of Commitment.

It was their wedding day.

It’s just a dream, he thought crazily.

Had the Norns finally taken pity on him and just decided to bestow upon him the gift of a good dream?

Thor’s mouth began to move as he formed words that Loki could not hear; he was not all sure if it was because of the pounding of his dream heart that was blocking every and all sound, or the dream was on mute, a silent dream.

Well. It mattered not. Loki beamed. He could relive this day till the day he died and never tire of it.

Stephen offered his hand and Loki’s hand moved on its own volition to join it.

He could not hear Stephen’s words, could only see his lips move…but Loki had every word memorised; he could recite them word for word, both his and Stephen’s vows.

At least he could feel the touch of Stephen’s skin, as warm and as familiar as ever.

A cold blast of magic wrapped around their conjoint hands as Stephen finished saying his vow –

And then it was Loki’s turn.

He could feel the rush of air vibrate against his vocal cords as he spoke, but still he could not hear the words. But he knew them by heart –

_I vow that I will never love another as deeply as I love you_

and from the way Stephen’s hand began to shake as he said the vow, Loki felt contented. At least dream Stephen could hear him, he could hear his vow, even if Loki himself could not.

_“Loki.”_

_and to prove my love_

He froze.

“Mother?”

Beyond Thor’s shoulder was a shadow.

Mother.

Loki broke into a smile –

_I vow to you_

Mother had been there at his wedding?

But Frigga’s face was grim. And another shadow appeared from behind her, and Loki’s smile died.

Odin.

_the Vow For Two Worlds_

“Father.”

Like Frigga, Odin was dressed in full regalia, splendid and golden.

His eye was kind, yet the set of his mouth was sombre.

“Oh Loki…” His father’s voice reverberated in his mind, loud and booming against the dead silence of his mute dream. “My son…”

_For my love goes beyond life_

“What…what are you trying to tell me?” Loki tried to speak but he couldn’t , he had not finished saying his vow to his would-be husband –

_even if death were to part us_

Frigga was holding on to Odin so tightly her hand was trembling, her face stricken with horror as she shook her head –

_“Loki, no.”_

_I will find you_

Loki jerked awake with a gasp, his heart thundering in his chest once more –

The alarm on the cardiac monitor started bleating loudly.

“What –?” He looked up as a throng of Healers poured into his room in a rush and began crowding around his bed.

“I’m alright,” he tried to speak, but for the life of him, he could not get a single word out, and now that he was back in the waking world, the residual muteness was causing him to panic, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

Hands began to paw at his shoulders, trying to push him back onto the bed –

“I’m alright!” He tried again.

“Loki!” From out of nowhere, Stephen materialised, and his husband’s face loomed over his. He must have heard the alarm from wherever he was and hurried over in a right panic. He began to paw at Loki’s neck.

_“Stephen, stop –”_

_“Loki?”_

_“I’m okay.”_

Loki grabbed for Stephen, he needed to hold him, needed to hear his voice, his real voice –

_“But I heard the alarm go off! Your heart’s racing again!”_

Stephen held Loki’s head to his chest, his eyes frantically scanning the heart monitor as he tried to make out the rhythm.

_“It’s just a dream.”_

True enough, it had only been a simple tachycardic response to whatever dream Loki had, a fight and flight response, and as Stephen held him close, Loki began to calm down and his heart began to cease its erratic galloping.

_“I just had a dream.”_

Stephen heaved a sigh of relief when Loki’s heart rate finally returned to normal in a matter of seconds. At a nod of his head, the Healers began to disperse.

_“I’m sorry, Loki. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”_

Loki did not answer. He just held Stephen tighter.

“Loki, what’s wrong?”

But Loki continued to shake.

“What was the dream about?” Stephen’s own heart began to pound.

Loki basked in Stephen’s grounding presence but as hard as he tried to seek comfort in it, he could not stop the seed of fear and trepidation from growing in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t remember,” he lied. “I don’t remember.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Everything alright?”

Stephen slumped into his chair tiredly. “Oh you’re still here.”

Wong shrugged. “No need for wifi when you’re portal-conferencing.”

He was still looking at Stephen sharply, and he realised he had yet to answer his friend’s question, “Yeah. False alarm. It took a while to get him back to sleep though.”

Wong nodded. “It’s late over there, why aren’t you resting yourself?” he asked lightly.

“Thank you for your concern, Wong, but resting is for the –” _dead_ , he nearly said. “Wimps.”

“Uh-uh.” Wong did not miss a beat. “Right. Well at 17:00 Eastern time, I am no wimp.” A crinkle of the nose. “A bit hungry though.”

Stephen wordlessly handed his untouched dinner through the portal. “Are you never not hungry.”

“Research uses a ton of brain power.” Wong munched on a bread roll. Asgard’s kitchens baked the best bread, and baked it fresh daily. Research nowadays was definitely more fun than it used to be. “Speaking of clues…have you tried reading anything other than books?”

“What do you mean?”

“It was The Ancient One’s magic that helped pull you guys through the last time.” Wong lifted a finger to emphasise, “The last few times, in fact.”

Wong certainly had a point. It was the power of his predecessor’s real name that helped save Little Aífe’s life while she was still in the womb. It was the sins of Aífe and Loki’s pasts that had lifted the curse that would have otherwise doomed Loki to an eternal sleep.

Stephen’s eyes were automatically drawn to the band on his ring finger. It gleamed in the balmy darkness of the dimly-lit room like a halo. “I’m not sure if I have anything else of hers that I could read. Not here, at least.”

“I can pop by Kamar-Taj or any of the other Sanctums if you want?”

Stephen twisted his ring around his finger absently. It felt looser than he remembered. Maybe Loki was not the only one losing weight. Stephen had been trying to avoid eating in front of Loki if he could help it, and all this stress certainly was not helping. It was a wonder he hadn’t developed an ulcer or two.

“I’m not sure where to start looking. Much of her personal items had been cremated as per her advanced directive, and all the relics at The Sanctums were likely to have passed through her hands at least once.”

“We should start with the ones she showed an affinity to, of course. Red herrings or not, you’re bound to have to go through them at some point.” Wong glanced at him. Stephen looked a hundred miles away. “Any ideas, Strange?”

“The Erhu, at the London Sanctum. The one from the Ming Dynasty.”

“You mean Qing?”

“Nope. Ming. It was a gift from Loki.”

It seemed like nothing could faze Wong anymore. “Uh-uh.”

Stephen met his gaze. “What about you? You knew her from way back. You ever see her use any of the relics?”

“Aside from the Eye of Agamotto? No.” Wong scratched the back of his ear distractedly, but his voice was measured, his eyes knowing. “Although…I once heard the older Masters speak of a fan.”

Stephen must have not heard him correctly. “A fan?”

“The legendary Fan of Zhongli Quan to be exact, one of The Eight Immortals in the Taoist pantheon. The Ancient One was said to have been the first one the relic chose to be its Master in a very long time,” Wong relayed the famous tale of the late Sorcerer Supreme and her famous fan. “But none of us who is still alive today has ever seen her use it.”

Stephen wracked his brain to recall any instances he ever saw The Ancient One use anything other than her hands to work her magic. “She had a fan once. A wooden one. Was that it?”

“According to legend, the fan of Zhongli Quan was made entirely of feathers with a tassel of horse hairs. Legend has it, it has the power to transform stones into gold or silver.”

Stephen’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. A fan made of feathers would not have withstood the test of time. Never mind one that could allegedly turn useless rocks into precious metals. “If no one has seen it, it is probably because it doesn’t exist.”

“It has been said that the first sling rings were made of gold.” Wong looked pointedly at Stephen’s ring. “And not just any ordinary gold.”

“It was only later on that iron was used as more and more recruits were taken in. The Sorcerer Supreme and a few of the older Masters wore rings made of gold or silver.”

Stephen’s gaze dropped to his ring once again. It thrummed with magic as though it knew it was being talked about.

“Assuming what you’re saying is true…” Stephen looked at him sharply. “You are telling me this because –?”

“It has also been said that whoever wields it, wields the power to resurrect the dead.”

At the sight of Stephen’s suddenly glazed eyes, Wong persevered. He articulated his next words slowly so there was to be no mistaking them and losing them to misinterpretation –

“Your Loki used to be _her_ Loki.”

Stephen’s throat went dry. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Wong was silent for a while.

“If you are thinking along the lines of The Ancient One’s death having something to do with Loki’s deteriorating condition, then yes, I guess I am saying what you think I’m saying.”

Stephen sank lower into his chair as a flutter of butterflies began to fly all funny inside him. “We need to find that fan.”

Wong nodded. “I know.”

Stephen watched his friend nod his head a couple more times. He narrowed his eyes accusingly. “If you knew, then why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was mad.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I don’t? All the great people are!”

The backhanded compliment aside, “So you believe me?”

“It is too fantastical to be true, but in my world –” Stephen shook his head, “It is too fantastical _not_ to be.”

_________________________________

 

When Loki opened his eyes again, it was already morning. How strange, he thought. He did not remember falling back to sleep after the harrowingly vivid dream of his once-Mother and once-Father; he remembered only that he had fought hard to keep his eyes open, despite Stephen’s best effort to calm him down –

Ah. Stephen must have put him to sleep, with one of his annoying little spells.

Well. With all the sleep he was getting, surely he would be fully recovered by now?

Loki closed his eyes and tried to listen to his body, but what he heard instead was a song.

A humming, sweet-melodied tune. Calming and soothing.

He had heard it once before…but where?

Loki opened his eyes again. It came not from inside his head, of that he was completely sure –

He lifted his head and peered in the direction of the foot of the bed. There was something wriggling underneath the blanket in between his legs. “Stian?”

The lump reared up to form the shape of a little head. “Pappa!” Stian blew his glossy hair away from his cheeky face. “You’re awake!”

Stian crawled his hands and knees across the bed and threw himself over Loki, effectively driving all breath out of him with an ‘ _Oof!_ ’ “Pappa, I was looking all over for you.”

“I’ve missed you too, my darling.” Loki laughed, ruffling Stian’s hair. “I’m sorry, Stian. I would have come home to you yesterday but your Daddy made me sleep here last night.”

“Uh-oh.” Stian lifted his head off Loki’s chest and looked at him with fearful eyes, in his hand a fistful of cables. In his frenzy, he had managed to dislodge almost all the electrodes off Loki’s chest.

Much to Loki’s amusement, as expected, a Healer rushed in, unmistakable terror in her eyes; the King’s Brother flat-lining first thing in the morning would spell impending doom for everyone –

“Oh, don’t worry! It’s just the little prince, doing me a favour.” Loki waved a hand, “If you could kindly do me another and switch the annoying machine off before it wakes the whole of Asgard, I would appreciate it.”

The Healer wavered between obeying Loki’s command at great risk to her career, and sticking to her ground and reattaching the electrodes to the Prince’s chest against his will at great risk to her life, but Loki’s next words forced her hand. “Quickly now, before the Prince Consort gets here and we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“O-Of course, Your Highness.” She hurriedly turned off the cardiac monitor, knowing full well it was a classic ‘Damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation. It was the wisest decision she could make, for everyone knew you should not incur Prince Loki’s wrath unnecessarily; you might end up spending the rest of your life as a frog.

“Thank you, Stian.”

“For what, Pappa?” Stian re-placed his head on Loki’s chest.

Loki breathed in the fruity scent of Stian’s shampoo. “For just being you.”  

Then he remembered. “Were you singing to me just then, Stian?”

“Yeah.” Stian raised his head and dug his chin into Loki’s sternum, the guilt-ridden look in his eyes making him appear much more mature than his age. “Was I too loud, Pappa?”

Loki shook his head. “No, darling. I was waking up anyway.” He caressed his son’s glossy black hair. “Who taught you that song?”

“No one.”

“No one?” Loki frowned. “Then where did you learn it?”

It was becoming uncomfortable, so Stian flipped onto his back and laid his head on Loki’s belly. To Loki’s surprise, the weight of it helped relieve some of the discomfort, and he sighed in content.

“I heard it when I was sitting in Daddy’s office. When I went to show him my new Spy Mission watch.”

“You heard Daddy play it on his computer?” Stian shook his head.

Loki tried again, “Daddy was singing it to you?”

Stian shook his head once more. “I can’t explain it, Pappa.” He shifted to lie on his side and looked up at Loki in wonder. “I just heard it. In my head.”

“In your…head?” Loki echoed. Stian nodded.

“Not like how I’m listening with my ears right now.” His little face puckered into a frown. “Your tummy sounds very angry, Pappa.”

Loki laughed. “Does it?”

As if on cue, Stian’s own stomach let out a growl. Loki lifted an eyebrow. “So does yours, it seems.” He paused. “Shall we have breakfast together?”

“In bed? Like you and Daddy used to do?” Stian asked excitedly.

Loki hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Sure. What would you like?”

He needed not worry for minutes later when Stian’s breakfast was brought up from the kitchen, not even the sight of Stian heartily enjoying his heart-shaped French toast dusted with a fine coating of caster sugar, and the smell of caramelised bananas could stir any craving for real food as he had feared, for all the unanswered questions began to whir around in his brain like a tornado, making him feel slightly sick to the stomach.

Putting two and two together was difficult when he did not have all the facts.

How on earth could Stian hum the tune to a song he had heard six months ago when he lay in a state of deep, unrousable sleep as a result as a dead man’s curse?

And now, that dream, that very disturbing dream

_“My son.”_

He had not heard that voice in years. To hear it call so clearly, to hear him call his _name_

Why? Why would Odin come to visit him in his dream after all these years?

_“My son.”_

Frigga, his Mother, as befitting her station as the Queen, The All-Mother, and a Goddess, had always kept her composure and very seldom revealed her true feelings, but the way she had looked at him, he could not describe it in any other way.

Try as he might, Loki could not explain away the stricken look on his parents’ faces as he said his wedding vows. It was a look of utter dread.

And that mysterious song – Stian was even humming it now as he toyed around with the banana slices, doing more playing than eating.

Loki pulled the tray table closer in. He grabbed Stian around the waist and unconsciously hugged his son to him; it instantly calmed his rebellious stomach enough to keep from upchucking all over Stian’s pretty breakfast plate, but still the question remained.

_What does it all mean?_

___________________________________________

Stian’s tutor not only had a brilliant mind, well-versed in all subjects from alchemy to botany to the sciences and histories of the Nine Realms, but he also had a knack for tracking down errant students. Then again, the whereabouts of Prince Stian was hardly the stuff of mystery, not when the whole of Asgard knew of Prince Loki’s ailing health.

The young, bespectacled Bruce Banner-lookalike bowed apologetically to have imposed upon the Prince in such a state of undress but Loki could not be happier at the sight of him. He was restless and he could not very well stay in bed a minute longer – “Run along now, Stian.”

Stian gave him a sticky, sugary kiss on the cheek. “Get well soon, Pappa. Aífe misses you too.”

“Come along, my Prince.” The sugar rush was kicking in now; Stian was practically skipping down the hall as tutor and pupil walked together to wherever the lesson was to take place today. Somewhere outdoors most probably, judging by the walking boots and the sunhat his teacher made him wear.

Loki slipped out of his room unnoticed and made his own way back to their apartments. It was mid-morning and Stephen had not come to see him, which was odd, but also a blessing in disguise; he could use that as an excuse for making his escape from the Healing Halls – Stephen had better not run himself to the ground this time. He may be the Sorcerer Supreme but he was still essentially human.

Their bed was unslept in and Stephen was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen or the living room or out on the balcony where he often liked to enjoy his morning coffee – could Stephen have gone somewhere and not told him?

A chill ran down Loki’s spine. Could Stephen have ignored Thor’s decree and gone to Vanaheim after all?

Loki studied the air. No, Stephen was near. Where was he?

He silently pushed the door to Stephen’s study open.

The sight awaiting him was not one he had never seen before, but it tugged on the strings of his heart all the same.

Stephen was still wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday when he tucked Loki in, over which was the dressing robe he must put on in a haste to fly to Loki’s side when the disturbing dream woke him up and sent them both into panic overdrive.

Loki walked slowly to the armchair and studied Stephen’s sleeping face.

Even in slumber, his husband looked nowhere near relaxed, the lines on his forehead and temples tight and grim. An open book lay in his lap, fingers curled loosely around the last page he must have been reading when he fell asleep.

Loki slid down onto his haunches and rested his head against the side of the armchair. Stephen’s other hand was dangling off the armrest, only a tantalising few inches from Loki’s face.

He wanted so badly to reach out and touch it, to squeeze the life out of it...not to wake Stephen, no –

Loki wanted only to touch.

But knew he would hate himself if he did. Stephen needed his rest.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He was remembering a time, back when they were still adapting to each other. They had barely even kissed, let alone made love, but Stephen had grabbed his hand then without hesitation.

 _“We might as well be a married couple now,”_ Stephen had said.

Loki remembered it now

To counteract Karl Mordo’s poison, Loki had needed to resort to his Jotunn form and been weighing the likelihood of Stephen ending up hating him once he laid eyes on Loki’s true form -

It was funny, looking back, to think that he was so devastated at the thought of Stephen hating him when he barely knew him. Had Loki already fallen in love with him then?

He shivered with an involuntary chill at the memory of Stephen touching his unsightly blue skin and kissing him on his icy lips over and over...

Loki’s eyes flew open as a sudden warmth enveloped him from the shoulder all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Loki grazed the back of his hand against the lapel of The Cloak.

“I’m alright, darling. Thank you,” he murmured with a soft smile.

At the sound of his voice, Stephen startled awake. Loki frowned; he had not been all that loud, had he?

“Loki?” Stephen shot up in the chair, and the book fell away onto the floor with a thud. “Where are you?”

 _Ah, well_.

Loki’s cold fingers reached for the hand he had longed to touch for the past ten minutes and Stephen’s head whipped around.

“What the _hell_ are you doing down there?”

“Oh, but we are so married now,” Loki whispered. _Who would have thought?_

 _“What?”_ Stephen tightened his grip around his hand. “Loki, get up off the damn floor.”

He shook his head and blinked the remnant of sleep away blearily. “What are you even doing here?”

Loki pouted prettily. “You didn’t come to feed me breakfast. So I came to find you.”

Stephen’s eyes flicked to the top of the IV stand where the TPN bag hung almost empty. He shot to his feet. “Oh shit, I am so sorry, must have fallen asleep –”

“It’s okay, Stephen. You need your rest.” Loki pulled him down forcefully until he was sitting back in the chair.

Loki critically studied the shadows under Stephen’s eyes, the thinness of his cheeks, his rough, unshaven jawline, “You look awful.”

Stephen rested his chin on the armrest. He searched Loki’s face for something and he too must not be happy with what he found. “So do you.”

Loki could not resist. He reared his head to kiss Stephen gently on the lips. “Good morning, Stephen.”

“Hmm.” Stephen closed his eyes and savoured the unexpected morning kiss.

When he opened them again, they quickly narrowed in suspicion. “You smell of French toast and bananas.”

“Stian came to keep me company. I think he knew you weren’t coming.” Loki mumbled in between kisses. “You know he’s not magic when he’s hungry.”

Stephen laughed silently. Then he stopped. “Loki, can you _please_ get off the freezing floor and get up here and kiss me properly?”

Loki obliged and clambered into Stephen’s lap, but the look of worry on his husband’s face only deepened as he took on the full weight of Loki’s body. The amount of weight Loki had lost in two weeks was more than he gained over the six-month period since the birth of Aífe.

Stephen tried to smother the rising fear fast constricting his throat. “We need to get you better, Loki. Soon.”

Loki dropped his gaze. “I know.”

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?” There was no hiding the hint of desperation in Stephen’s voice.

“I dreamt of my Mother again,” Loki said quietly. “And my – Father.”

Stephen stiffened. He knew by now Loki’s dreams were never just dreams. No wonder Loki was in such a state last night.

He ducked his head to try and catch Loki’s downcast eyes, “Odin came to you in your dream?”

Loki nodded.

“Well, what did they say?” Stephen demanded. “What did they do?”

“They were at our wedding,” Loki whispered. “Both of them.”

A thrill coursed down his spine, but it was not the time to get distracted. “And?” he pressed.

“They just – stood there as we said our vows.” Loki finally raised his head to look at him, his green eyes cloudy with fear and dread. “They did not look happy.”

“They did not look happy _how?_ ”

Loki’s eyes pleaded with him helplessly. “They just…didn’t.”

Stephen’s mind was racing at immeasurable miles an hour. “They didn’t say anything?”

Loki shook his head slowly. “Only my name.”

Stephen sank back in his chair, stunned. “Well, that’s not very helpful,” was the only thing he could manage to say.

“I’m sorry.” Loki sagged in his lap, and Stephen’s hold around his waist tightened.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he grouched. “You know I wasn’t talking about you.”

Loki could almost hear the imaginary engines running in Stephen’s brilliant mind.

“What does it mean?” he murmured, his hand absently running up and down Loki’s back. “What does it all mean?”

Loki stilled. “There’s another thing.”

“What?”

“Do you ever play music in your study?” Stian may be magic and all, but he just had to be sure. “Any kind of music?”

Stephen crinkled his nose. “You know I don’t. It disturbs my genius.”

Loki stared at him.

“Loki, what –”

Loki grabbed the back of his head and pressed their foreheads together, and willed the song through. Now that he had heard it again, he could relay with certainty what he had definitely heard in his long, unnatural sleep –

“Do you hear that?” he murmured. He could feel Stephen’s eyebrows almost meet in the middle as his husband frowned against his own clammy forehead.

“Yes,” Stephen said breathily. “I do. And I’ve heard it before….”

Loki’s flew open.

“You have?” His fingers unconsciously curled around Stephen’s hair. “Where?”

“Somewhere…” Stephen pulled away slowly; Loki searched his face for answers, but his eyes were a thousand miles away. “Yes.”

“Stephen?”

Loki turned his head around to follow the direction of Stephen’s gaze.

The Thanka?

“You heard it at Kamar-Taj?” he ventured a guess.

Stephen shook his head. He patted Loki’s side gently. As soon as Loki slid off his lap, Stephen rose and walked over slowly to the painting on the wall.

But instead of Yama Dharmapala, Stephen reached for the white Khata scarf draped over it instead.

He breathed his magic into it, and one word came to him instantly, and it came to him in _her_ voice.

_“Surrender, Stephen.”_

He gasped.

“Stephen?” Loki was by his side in an instant, and had it not been for The Cloak pulling the IV stand with it, he would have ripped out his neck line for sure – “Stephen, what is it?”

When Stephen finally turned around, his face was as pale as paper.

“Tibet,” he managed.

“We have to go back to Tibet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, because all the great people are mad. - Credit to musicalgirl4474 for the awesome line, I do hope you don't mind, it just fit the feels so well ^^;
> 
> I just couldn't help myself, I needed the fluff, and I needed to write - arggghhh ❤


	17. Chapter 17

“It is not a journey to be taken lightly,” Stephen stressed. “I suggest we wait until you are stronger.”

“No. I am done waiting. I am done lying around. We are going.”

“Loki, I’d hate to point out the obvious, but it is quite impossible to lug that around up and down the mountain.” Stephen pointedly looked at the empty nutrition bag hanging on the IV stand.

He’d better change it and get Loki fed. Contrary to popular belief, it was more difficult to win an argument with a hypoglycaemic, hungry, cranky Loki.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable, yes, but not impossible.”

Yeah. Add stubborn to the list, and that would sum Loki up.

“Humans can go without food for more than three weeks, Strange. I’m pretty sure I can go for a bit longer.” Loki crossed his arms across his chest. “As long as I can drink water, I should be fine.”

“It will be physically strenuous.”

“I will manage,” Loki said softly.

He held Stephen’s gaze, steady and unwavering.

“Mind over matter. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. If at first you don’t succeed,” he rattled off. “Take your pick. You Midgardians came up with all that. Can’t all be nonsense.”

“Loki…”

“Strange. I need this.” Loki straightened to his full height; he may not be at a full hundred percent, but he sure as hell was not going down without a fight. “I can’t live like this.”

And most importantly –

“I can’t die like this,” Loki stated flatly.

That ceased all arguments but not the exchange of furious looks, neither willing to back down.

“Pardon me, Your Highnesses.” A voice suddenly blared through the intercom. It was the guard at the main gates. “You have guests here requesting an audience?”

“You expecting company?” Loki asked quietly. Stephen shook his head. He asked aloud, “With which one of us?”

“Both, there is a Master Wong for the Prince Consort, and a Captain Steve Rogers to see yourself, Prince Loki.”

The staring contest between Stephen and Loki turned into a shared look of wonder and curiosity, with a healthy sprinkle of naked suspicion on Stephen’s part. In response to the unspoken question in his husband’s eyes, Loki only gave a defensive little shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Uh-uh.” Stephen supposed the only way to find out was by opening the front door. “Looks like we will have to resume our conversation later.”

Loki’s lips may be saying, “Later,” but his eyes said, “Never.”

He was going, and that was that.

________________________________________

“Captain.” They nodded at each other. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Home is where we make it,” Steve said serenely. “Norway is no more no less your home than New York is mine.”

“Makes for interesting conversation nonetheless.” Loki gestured for him to sit. “Please. Have a seat.”

How bizarre it was, to have received not one, but two visitors in the span of a week – and not just any visitor, Anthony Stark and the good Captain Rogers of The Avengers too! Loki was beginning to feel quite impressed with himself.

Well. As far as guests went, they were not necessarily unwelcome…but they were certainly unexpected.

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

“I came to see how you’re doing.” Steve did not beat around the bush. “I read the report and I was concerned to read of your injuries. They sounded quite grievous, but since our mutual friend Tony Stark has been known to embellish his stories at times, I decided I needed to come and see for myself.”

“I thank you for your concern, Captain.” Loki did not quite know what to say. “But as you can see, I am quite alright…now,” he added awkwardly.

“I am glad to hear it.” Steve tried hard not to stare at the catheter protruding from Loki’s neck and at the yellow, milky substance in the tubing that ran into it. Yon-Rogg’s blood had been blue. It would not be all that far-fetched to think of Loki’s blood being something other than the conventional red. “Is that…that’s not your blood, is it?”

“Oh no, no.” Loki shook his head. “It’s what’s keeping me from starving slowly to death.” A pale hand ghosted over an alarmingly concave stomach. “It seems Yon-Rogg has robbed me of one of the great pleasures in life. I have not been able to take in any food ever since…that day.”

Steve’s handsome face became stricken with alarm. “Is it permanent?”

Loki gazed at him silently. “I hope it is only temporary.”

Steve finally gave a curt nod. “I hope it is too.” His eyes appeared downcast. “I am sorry this happened to you, Loki.”

“Don’t be, Captain.” Loki’s lazy drawl belied the repressed anger warring with self-pity within. “I do not hold anybody but myself responsible for the choices I make.”

“Your choice may have saved lives but at great expense to yourself,” Steve said gently. “If he had gotten hold of both the Time Stone and the Tesseract, who knows the kind of catastrophe that could have brought about.”

“Do not make me out to be a martyr for your cause, Captain.” Loki had gone pale for some reason. “I only did it because my husband was in danger and I was in the position to do something about it.”

“I wasn’t trying to.” Steve’s voice was level. “I just wanted to say thank you.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. “In case no one else remembers to say it.”

Loki’s lips curled into a ghost of a smile. “So you’ve said, Captain.”

Steve returned his smile with a small, albeit warm one of his own. “I have something for you.”

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise. A gift? First, from Tony Stark, now from Steve Rogers? What had the world come to? Was he living in some kind of alternate universe? He waited silently in dreaded anticipation.

Steve produced from somewhere behind him something long and tapered, and wrapped in a leather sheath.

Loki recognised the hilt and his face drained of whatever colour that was left.

“This has been recovered from the body.” Loki dimly heard Steve say. “S.H.I.E.L.D. would have kept it had I not insisted it be returned to its rightful owner.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Loki ran a hand along the blade of his dagger. He had thought it lost. “Thank you for returning it to me.”

“It is no ordinary dagger, I believe.”

“You believe correctly,” Loki murmured. It had been cleaned of course, but he murmured a cleansing spell for good measure; it had been in someone’s head after all. Steve watched as the blade glowed green for a few seconds before returning to its normal state. With a sleight of his hand, the dagger disappeared to join its fellow in his pocket dimension.

Loki inhaled deeply. “You must have heard this a hundred times…but you’re a good man, Captain.”

Steve did not hesitate. “So are you, Loki.”

Loki looked at him sharply. He said nothing.

It made Steve all the more adamant to drive his point home. “So are you.”

________________________________________

Stephen could not quite bring himself to touch it just yet.

“Having second thoughts?” Wong asked quietly.

“I know that The Ancient One and Loki had a past together.” He corrected himself, “Several pasts actually. They go back hundreds of years. With that much history?” Stephen shook his head, growing more and more uncertain by the minute.

“And you feel as if by reading into it you are somehow…intruding?” Wong guessed.

Stephen nodded reluctantly. Wong was right on the money, as always.

“I’m not sure if I have the right. Loki may be my husband now, but –”

“Strange, if the object does not wish to be read, it will not reveal anything,” Wong reminded him. “You told me that yourself.”

“You’re right.” Stephen sighed, visibly appearing to regather his resolve. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Just keep an open mind. If you see something that has the potential to make you feel extremely jealous or extremely insecure or extremely lacking in any way…” Stephen glared at him, but Wong continued coolly with a sadistic grin on his face. “Just remember that there’s nowhere to go but up!”

“Why do I keep you around?” Stephen asked snappishly.

“To tell you that whatever performance issues you are unnecessarily creating for yourself don’t matter. Your insecurities don’t matter. Your inferiority complex doesn’t matter.” Wong pointed at the erhu. “Now get reading and start figuring out how to save your husband’s life.”

That erased all doubt and Stephen could feel himself sitting up straighter. “Always so wordy, Wong,” he murmured.

The late Sorcerer Supreme could have succinctly said, and did say it, in three words.

_Silence your ego._

Stephen cleared his thoughts and laid a hand slowly on the sandalwood body, taking care to avoid the python skin covering the sound box. He inhaled deeply, and on the breath out, his third eye opened.

Unexpectedly, his sense of smell was the first to be evoked. The overpowering scent of burning incense assaulted his senses and Stephen knew he had the right place…but did he have the right time?

Loki’s voice drifted, low and silky.

_“Goodness, your tastes haven’t changed a bit. The last time I saw this was back in your seventeenth century.”_

Stephen’s visual fields skittered in and out focus at the edges but his central vision cleared enough to make out Loki running his hand down a familiar-looking gold and silver Thanka depicting the gruesome visage of Yama, the very same one hanging on his very wall at his home.

Dressed in a traditional hanfu made of the finest green silk paired with the ubiquitous Asgardian leather trousers, Loki made a striking figure, his hair allowed to hang long and free past his shoulders. He sat across a woman Stephen would not have recognised, had he not seen her before –

Aífe herself was once a beautiful woman, long and pale-limbed with lustrous hair the colour of fire. The Eye of Agamotto hung pendulously from her long neck as she stretched across the divan.

 _“I have no need for such long life,”_ Loki was saying.

To which she countered, _“Spoken like a true immortal who stares his gift horse in the mouth.”_

She ran a hand through her visibly thinner hair and studied its visibly brittle ends. _“Every time you brush too close to death a clump of my hair falls.”_

And Aífe raised her head and stared straight at him, and Stephen instantly felt a shard of ice prickle the base of his spine –

And the vision skipped forward, and the ice disappeared, only for a peculiar burning sensation to take its place, for now they were holding hands.

Aífe kissed the back of Loki’s hand just like a lover would, tender and intimate.

 _“Tell me my secret.”_ Loki surged forward, his face mere inches from hers, almost touching, almost kissing.

_“I will tell you of love.”_

_“Love?”_

_“One of the great loves of your life. The greatest.”_

The Cloak of Levitation flew around Loki, appearing aimless when it did so but Stephen knew better – it had taken a liking to his would-be husband even then, and Loki responded in kind, touching it tentatively with the tips of his fingers at first, before caressing it boldly when The Cloak leaned into his touch.

The pale fingers jerked at her next words.

_“He will give you many children.”_

That was it. Her promise to Loki, the promise Loki held on to so dearly and blindly – until now.

Stephen knew, at that moment, it had become _his_ promise too. A promise that he must now fulfil.

“But how?” Stephen wanted to ask aloud. Aífe was right there, she could answer him, couldn’t she?

And suddenly she was neither here nor there, and in the blink of an eye, Stephen was floating down a corridor, dark and musty, its walls lined by rows and rows of paintings of still lifes and portraits, faceless but for their eyes whose collective gaze pointed Stephen in the direction where he must go –

 _“I was not ready when the end came for me,”_ her voice wafted from a room, grief-stricken but serene. It echoed through the acoustics of the London Sanctum, and almost swallowed Loki’s equally devastated lamentation of regret.

 _“I was not there for you when it did.”_ Loki sounded almost weeping.

Stephen grasped the slightly-ajar door and pulled himself in just as Aífe and Loki pulled apart from a kiss Stephen knew they must have shared, but was not permitted to see –

 _“You need to remember,”_ Aífe whispered in Loki’s ear...but it was a message meant for _him_. Stephen was sure of it.

“Remember what?” he struggled to form words, before he remembered he was only an observer, she could not possibly hear him.

But the Ancient One had never failed him in his time of greatest need, and she was not about to fail him now, for it was then he heard it, as crystal clear as the first time she said it...on the day she died.

_“It’s not about you.”_

Was that an actual answer to his unspoken question? Or the remnant of the very last lesson the late Sorcerer Supreme gave him? An echo of his own memory?

But whatever it was, it marked the end of the vision, and Stephen found himself sitting in his armchair. An unfamiliar weight leaned against the side of his leg, and he looked down.

Stephen waited for a minute longer, but the erhu remained stubbornly silent. He finally unwrapped his fingers from around its long neck with reluctance and a crushing disappointment.

So the songs Aífe must have played for Loki were hers and hers alone.

Wong’s quiet voice shattered his reverie. “Learnt anything new?”

“Bargains,” Stephen said softly. “For knowledge. For love. For _life_.”

“Bargains already made, or to be made?” Wong always knew the right questions to ask aloud, and the right ones to ask with only his eyes, ‘ _to break?_ ’

Stephen had never been more sure of anything. “To _renew_.”

Wong had gone stock-still. “And the grace period?”

Stephen thought of the clumps of lifeless hair he would find on Loki’s pillow every morning. The weakened fluttering of the once-strong lionheart. The ease with which he could lift Loki in his arms when once it would have been damn near impossible to do so without magic –

Perhaps Frigga and Odin did not come to give answers. Perhaps they had come to take Loki _home_.

“Time is running out, Wong.”

Wong leaned his head back slowly until it thudded against the wall.

_________________________________________

Stephen and Loki stood staring at the front door long after Wong and Steve Rogers took their leave, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. Loki must have found it more uncomfortable, Stephen not so much for he was still very much lost in his thoughts –

“I’m still going, Stephen.” Loki’s voice was hard as he prepared himself for the inevitable altercation.

To his utter surprise, Stephen nodded. In utter contrast, his husband’s voice was very soft. “Of course, Loki.”

Loki turned his head sharply. True to form, Stephen did the complete opposite and turned his head very slowly. “I’ll get you there even if I have to carry you myself.”

Something must have happened in the study to have caused this complete turnabout in Stephen and had it not filled Loki with such relief that he would be spared the confrontation and the heartache of going against his husband’s wishes as he had every intention of doing, he would have bombarded Stephen for answers…but alas, the burning questions died at the tip of his tongue.

Loki wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist and a cool forehead found its way to Stephen’s temple. “You promise?”

The timbre of Stephen’s voice was deep and soothing as it vibrated in his throat. “I promise.”

“Whatever happens, know that I love you.” The heat of Loki’s sigh against the crook of his neck brought Stephen around to full awareness and the words reverberated in his brain like a mantra.

“This galaxy and the next, Odinson.” Stephen cupped the back of his head. “Till the very last one.”

________________________________________

Loki held Little Aífe tightly to him, relishing in her healthy, round-cheeked plumpness and committing her sweet baby smell to memory. As if she knew he was leaving, she clung to his neck, not wanting to let go and began to cry.

“Aífe,” Loki murmured. “My sweet girl.”

Stian did not even bother asking if he could come with his parents on their journey. He had developed somewhat of a sixth sense for when it was something he could wheedle his way into joining, and when it was time to prove himself the firstborn of the Sorcerer Supreme and Loki of Asgard. But for all his outward display of stoicism, his eyes were wet when Stephen knelt in front of him and took his little hand.

He hesitated, wavering between making up a shamble of an excuse and telling the truth, but in the end, good parenting sense prevailed. They had been blessed with such an intelligent little boy after all.

“Stian…” he began. “Remember I told you that Pappa got hurt?” Stian nodded. “Well I’m going to take him somewhere to try and make him better.”

Stian’s lower lip wobbled. “But his colour’s alright, Daddy. Why do you need to take him away? Why do you need to go?”

“Pappa’s still feeling a bit sick, buddy.” Stephen said soothingly, “You want Pappa to feel better, don’t you?”

Stian nodded slowly. “When will you be back?”

“As soon as I can, Stian.” Stephen kissed his son on the cheek and ruffled his hair. “I promise.”

The crestfallen look on Stian’s face almost made Stephen cave in, but Valkyrie stepped up the rescue; she wordlessly pulled Stian gently toward her and hugged him to her hip. “Be brave, my Sweet Prince. Brave and strong, just like?”

“Uncle Thor?” Stian’s eyes brightened slightly.

“That’s right.” She smiled. “Just like your Uncle Thor.”

“Thanks, Valkyrie,” Stephen said gratefully.

Valkyrie’s smile was tight and did not quite reach her eyes. She watched as Loki rocked Aífe from side to side as he tried to soothe her but she continued to keen softly. Stephen caught the line of her gaze.

“I would give an arm and a leg to be able to come with you,” she murmured forlornly. “But I know that this is a journey you have to make alone.”

She had a more important duty, to protect the Prince and Princess, in the absence of the King and their parents. “I will guard them with my life.”

And in return…she pleaded silently with her eyes.

“I will take good care of him, Valkyrie.”

She nodded. “I know you will,” she said softly. “Take care of yourself too, Fancy Man.”

___________________________________

Their journey in search of healing began at the foot of Mount Kailash, the Land of Snows, one of the most sacred peaks in Tibet.

“It will be a thirty-mile trek around the mountains, Loki.” Stephen’s word of warning was casual but there was no mistaking the concern in his voice.

“So be it,” was all Loki said, so enraptured was he by the sight of the snow-topped mountain range looming in front of him. The wind blew around his face and a wisp of hair caught in between his lips. “I am not afraid.”

Still Stephen could not help feeling uneasy. “You have to let me know if you start feeling unwell or if you need to stop to rest. Okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Loki had started walking.

“I mean it.”

 _“Yes,_ Stephen.” Despite being dressed in his usual soft Asgardian leathers and knee-high boots, Loki did not appear cold-bitten at all. Perhaps it was the Jotunn blood, perhaps it was the invigorating mountain air, but the cold made him look rosy, almost healthy.

One would not have thought him ill at all, judging by the pace he set, and by the four-hour mark, for every breath Loki took, Stephen was taking at least three.

“You alright there, darling?” Loki asked teasingly.

“Fine – ” Stephen huffed, “Absolutely –” and puffed, “fine!” he gasped.

“Shall we take a breather?” Loki pulled to a stop and sat on a boulder.

Stephen dropped down next to him and took a few gulps out of his water canteen. He passed it to Loki.

Loki hesitated, “I really shouldn’t.”

“Drink.” Stephen urged. “You can’t afford to be dehydrated.”

The water was pleasantly warm as it washed down his parched throat, all thanks to Stephen and his microwave hands. The last time he accidentally drank some cold water right out of the fridge, it gave him horrendous stomach cramps that lasted for hours.

“It’s absolutely beautiful up here.” Loki hugged his knees to his chest. He peered into the distance at the shimmering, placid water of Lake Manasarovar, their destination for the day.

“It sure is.” Stephen had to agree, a little smile gracing his lips. In the six years they had been married, he had done more mountain-climbing than the average non-mountaineer; as painful as it sounded, he would not have traded it for the world, for the view was magnificent, and to be able to share it with the person he loved most, was a feeling unrivalled and indescribable with words.

The blowing gale was messing up Loki’s hair and Stephen grew tired of watching Loki brush it out of his eyes every few seconds. He scooted closer to his husband, before gathering the errant raven locks gently into a ponytail and securing it with a hair tie.

“Thank you, Stephen.”

Stephen dropped a quick kiss onto the nape of his neck. “Ready to go? We’re losing daylight.”

Loki nodded and accepted a hand up. He had every intention to match Stephen step for step, to retrace the route Stephen had taken on his pilgrimage almost two years ago. He knew not where their journey would lead, only that it was one he needed to take.

Three hours later, they reached the banks of Lake Manasarovar, a high-altitude freshwater lake fed by the Kailash Glaciers. Its waters ran deep and blue, a perfect mirror-image of the sky. Being in such close proximity to the heavens, one could see why so many held these bodies of water sacred, the abode of protective deities, the proverbial jewels of the mountains.

“We’ll set up camp here tonight.” Stephen gave him a sharp look. “I think that’s enough walking for one day.”

Loki found himself a rock to sit on. “I could have kept going. Sun’s not that low.”

Stephen shook his head. “What did I say about not pushing yourself too hard?”

Loki bobbed his head up and down, ‘Okay, okay.’

“You can roll out one of the sleeping bags if you want to have a quick lie-down while I get the tent up.” Stephen glanced at him out the corner of one eye. “Unless you’ve got our bed stowed away somewhere in your pocket universe?”

“This is hardly my first time sleeping in a tent, Strange.” Loki looked on with mild curiosity as Stephen began unpacking their camping gear. “I may look like a creature of comfort but I can rough it out as much as the next person.”

“Really.” Stephen methodically assembled the tent stakes on the ground.

“I once slept in a tree for two weeks. Just to see how long it would take for Thor to find me.”

“Two weeks? That’s how long it took?”

Loki shrugged. “He never looked up.”

“I don’t think I even want to know what he did to have pissed you off that much.”

Loki’s smile did not waver but his eyes dimmed slightly. “I recall being called grudgey once upon a time. By you.”

“See how you always prove my point about you?” Stephen twisted at his waist, and used the momentum from the sideways motion to quickly steal a kiss from him, and Loki forgot all about sulking –

“I hate to break it to you, Your Royal Grudginess, but I haven’t seen a sleepable tree for the miles we’ve been walking today, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

“Can’t you just pitch it up by magic?”

“No. No magic, Loki.” Stephen braced a hand on Loki’s knee to heft himself up. “I used no magic the last time I was here. Nature is all the magic we need.”

Loki watched as Stephen walked around in circles, feeling for the levelness of the ground with his booted feet, looking for the perfect spot to pitch their tent.

“It’s probably for the best,” Loki murmured. “You wouldn’t want to upset the spirits by stirring anything up.”

“Spirits?” Stephen echoed.

Loki’s forehead wrinkled matter-of-factly. “They _are_ everywhere.”

“I…have to take your word on that, I suppose.” Stephen blinked. His ghost radar was off. He must be hungry. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, actually.” Loki sounded surprised. “I’m not even all that tired.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“What’s your bullshit detector telling you?”

Stephen peered at him closely. “You do look better.”

“There you have it.” Loki leaned his head back and breathed in the cool mountain air deeply. “It’s this place. I started feeling better the moment we got here.”

There was no mistaking the relief in Stephen’s eyes. “Good.”

“Careful. You don’t want to set camp where the Nāga dwells.”

“Nāga?”

“Serpentine spirits,” Loki said incredulously, giving his husband an exasperated look. “Don’t you ever read up before you go places?”

“What, you mean like Tripadvisor or something?” Stephen muttered.

Loki rolled his eyes. Stephen was about to stake the ground he was standing on when Loki stopped him. “Not there, Strange.”

With a great show of charity and an even greater sigh, Loki climbed to his feet slowly and walked about ten yards eastward, careful to avoid the shrubs and heavily grassed areas. “Here.”

Stephen stared at him sceptically. “Too open. Too windy.”

Loki shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you wake up tomorrow morning with your genitals swollen to the size of melons don’t come crying to me.”

Now _that_ got him moving, and it got him moving away from where he initially wanted to set their tent up, and toward where his husband was standing.

Always trust the one whose ghost radar was working.

Once their tent was up, they sat huddled together on the shoreline, Loki’s back to Stephen’s chest, with Stephen arms securely locked around his waist as though Loki would somehow get swept away by the placid lake.

The water lapped gently at their bare feet.

A flock of black-headed gulls flew over their heads.

Loki sighed a deep, forlorn sigh.

“What are you thinking, Loki?” Stephen murmured into the back of his head.

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Yeah?” Stephen ran his foot down the length of Loki’s exposed ankle. It was ice-cold, colder than the water – “Care to elaborate?”

Loki inhaled deeply.

“Meeting you. Being with you. Raising a family with you.”

He wrapped his fingers around one of Stephen’s forearms wrapped around his midriff. “I have never been happier, Strange. But sometimes I just wish…the price for my happiness did not have to be so dear.”

“If it isn’t worth fighting for, it isn’t worth having.” Stephen quoted. He was lucky to be surrounded by highly intellectual friends who always knew the right things to say. It must have been Christine who said that.

“I am fighting for you, Loki.” Stephen kissed the back of each ear in turn. “You need to fight for you too.”

Loki turned his head to catch Stephen’s lips in a proper kiss – “For us,” he corrected.  

And against the majestic Mount Kailash, they sealed their promise to fight for each other until the very last breath, and the last drop of blood, for their life had just begun, and they were nowhere near ready to let go –

 _“For us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because essentially this is a story of love, sacrifice, and bargaining.


	18. Chapter 18

“You hate oatmeal.”

Stephen looked up. Loki’s head was the only thing Stephen could see, poking out from the half-unzipped tent door.

“So do you.”

“Strange, you don’t have to eat something you hate just because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“No, I’m eating something you and I both hate because I don’t want to torture you with the sight of me eating.”

Loki blinked once, twice. “Then why not just eat anything you want? It’s not like I’m any less tortured this way.”

“At least this way you know I’m not enjoying it.” Stephen made a face.

With a sigh, Loki crawled out of the tent and came to sit next to him. “Why do you torture yourself this way?”

He peered into the bowl in disgust. “And you’re eating it plain too. Gosh.”

Stephen bumped their shoulders together. “The things I do for you, Odinson.”

“Yeah. It’s painful, isn’t it.” Loki laid his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “Eating.”

At Loki’s double entendre, what little appetite Stephen had, died, and with it, what little hunger he accumulated from their second day of walking.

He put the bowl of half-eaten oatmeal down on the grass.

Loki stared at him in horror. “Stephen.”

“It’s okay. I’m not hungry anyway.”

“You have to eat.” Loki stretched his body across Stephen’s knees to grab the bowl from off the ground. “Finish it.”

Stephen shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m done.”

“Strange, either you feed yourself or _I_ will.” Loki’s eyes were as hard as his voice. “You’ve barely eaten anything since we started our journey.”

“You ate nothing at all.”

“Yes, for I have no choice. You _do_.” Loki planted the bowl in Stephen’s hands. “You need to keep up your strength.”

“Loki…”

“How much more of walking did you say we have left? A day and a half?” Loki sniffed. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes began to water. “You’ll get me there even if you have to carry me yourself.”

Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but Loki was far from over with parroting Stephen’s words back at him. “I may look skinny, but I’m _heavy_. Remember?”

Stephen stared deep into Loki’s eyes; he saw no jest, no ridicule in them, only concern.

Loki leaned in unexpectedly to give him a light, chaste kiss on the lips, and murmured, “Please. For me.”

All words died in Stephen’s throat.

He nodded curtly, and picked up his spoon once again. The oatmeal may taste like ash in his mouth, but with Loki watching him as he ate his dinner, it was turning to be the most delicious thing he had eaten.

Loki poured him a cup of steaming hot coffee from the flask. He watched Stephen drink with a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

“Good?”

Stephen nodded. “You know it is. You made it.” He sighed. “I just wish you could drink it.”

Loki leaned in to kiss him again, savouring the taste on his lips. “I _am_ drinking it.”

Stephen closed his eyes and let Loki taste as much of him as he wanted, “Then I will drink more of it.”

“As you should, Doctor.” Another coffee-flavoured kiss under the stars coming right up – “As you should.”

_______________________________________

“Just a bit further, Loki.”

He had caught the first glimpse of the monastery about an hour ago, its roofs an unmistakable terracotta red against the whites and greys of the mountains. But for its estimated distance, it was proving to be quite a climb, and Loki had not spoken a word for the past half hour and Stephen was beginning to worry.

He turned around to look, and again Loki only nodded, waving a hand at him in a ‘keep going’ gesture.

“You want to stop and rest for a bit?”

Loki shook his head, still not saying a word.

Stephen slowed down and offered him his water canteen, but Loki just ignored it and walked past him.

Stephen took a deep breath and tried to reason with the pangs of anxiety fluttering in his chest. At least Loki’s steps were as sure and as steady as when they started out.

After another hour of trekking, they came to the foot of a winding staircase that wrapped around the mountain, leading up to the cave monastery where Stephen had once sought refuge and the dharma from the great Lama Saurav Rinpoche.

There were at least two hundred steps to get to the top and they were steep, made the more treacherous by the unevenness of the hand-carved stones that made up the staircase.

“Come on.” Stephen began to climb. “Be careful.”

As Stephen made his way up the winding steps, he wondered for the tenth time if he should have called ahead after all. He had not informed anyone that they were coming; he had no idea if the Lama would even be there.

But he needed not have worried, for when they finally reached the top, the great Guru was the first face he saw.

“Rinpoche.” He palmed his hands together and bowed, his heart thundering in his chest from the exertion.

“Master Strange. You have finally come.”

Before Stephen knew what was happening, the Lama’s hand brushed lightly against his shoulder and he felt himself pushed over to the side gently.

“Saurav.” Loki’s small, broken voice was alarming, but not as alarming as the stark pallor of his face and the violent trembling of his form, a far cry from the robust picture of health Loki had been the past three days –

“Oh Loki…” he heard Rinpoche say oh so softly.

Stunned, Stephen could only watch as the Lama laid one hand on the top of Loki’s head, the other on his chest, before moving them down and coming to rest against Loki’s upper stomach and lower belly respectively.

“Oh my child…” Rinpoche said in a grieved voice. “What have you done?”

And it jolted Stephen then, the sudden realisation that their paths had crossed long before their fateful meeting…beyond Aífe, beyond Tibet, beyond _time_ itself.

Which one of Lama Saurav Rinpoche’s previous incarnations had Loki met?

“Quickly, take him inside,” Rinpoche murmured.

As if those very words had stolen the last of his strength, Loki wavered where he stood and a few of the Lama’s disciples leaped forward to catch him before he could fall backward into a deadly tumble down the steps, but Stephen beat them to it.

“I’ll carry him.” Stephen swallowed against the fury threatening to encroach into his voice.

But the tornado of wrath warring with terror in his husband’s chest was lost on Loki, who had crumpled into a dead faint the moment Stephen swept him up in his arms in a hassled bridal carry.  

_Damn you, Loki._

They climbed up the last of the treacherous, uneven steps, and straight into a low-hanging chamber. Candles upon candles burned along its stone walls and on the tiny window ledges. Red-robed monks were already sitting crammed together and they began to chant at the sight of the Rinpoche and his awaited guests.

“Lay him down,” Rinpoche gestured toward the circle in the ground, lined with a piece of yellow cloth.

The chanting grew louder, and it took the form of a song; a healing _puja_. It was what he had heard two years ago, and what Loki had heard in his sleep – this was now a healing ceremony. Lama Saurav Rinpoche had been expecting them, Stephen realised with a shudder.

“Follow me. I fear he is gravely ill. There is no time to waste.”

With a flourish of his robes, Rinpoche ducked under a low door, barely big enough to fit a person walking sideways. Stephen followed, but instead of another chamber, the door led to a staircase, one more uneven and more treacherous than the one outside.

“He journeyed with me, Rinpoche. For three days straight without food and scarcely any water. And he did not look like that.” Stephen could not believe that he had been deceived by such an elaborate glamour.

“He is the Master of Deception, Master Strange. The first time he came to me, he came in the form of a woman.”

If Rinpoche was amused by the look of utter surprise on Stephen’s face, he did not show it. His solemn demeanour was evident in the way he swept the flimsy gossamer curtain aside to reveal a spring, hidden deep inside the cave.

Its water ran dark and black in the absence of a light source, as dark as his next words. “The negative karma is all over him and is an inch away from devouring him whole, body and soul.”

Stephen stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

“You got him here just in time.”

Rinpoche dropped to his knees and out of nowhere, he produced a silver tureen and began to scoop the spring water into it. “This invisible thread I can see binding Loki to you…in what form or shape is it? Do you know of it?”

Stephen shook his head, the stunned expression yet to leave his features with each astonishing revelation after another, “I don’t – I have not placed any geas or thrall over him, I would never!”

“Are you sure?” Rinpoche inquired gently. “And what of vows Loki may have made to you, with or without your knowledge?”

“Only our wedding vows, cast into the Fire of Commitment.”

“A fire of Magic?”

Stephen nodded. “Norse magic. Loki vowed –”

_“The Vow For Two Worlds.”_

Stephen jerked his head around. Its echoes still ricocheting the uneven rock walls of the cave, the voice was unmistakable – _The Ancient One?_

It could only be her, it was her _voice!_

As if he too could hear the disembodied oath, Rinpoche nodded, in understanding and solidarity alike, something akin to sympathy softening the look in his eyes.

“She vowed the same, to _him_.” Stephen’s mouth fell. Rinpoche bobbed his head again for emphasis, “I bore witness to it, right in this very cave.”

“She brought him to me, near death from a blow he took while defending her monastery from enemies, marauders come to defile the holy place. Miraculously he survived.” Rinpoche covered the tureen with its lid and climbed once more to his feet.

“And on that day, she vowed that for every year she lived, he would live it too.”

He turned to face Stephen. “Essentially, she tied her life force to Loki.”

Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. “She bargained her life for Loki?”

“Bargaining implies the participation of both parties, always in the form of heavy sacrifice at the expense of one’s well-being and comforts.” Rinpoche shook his head slowly.

“She did not bargain, Master Strange. She gave _away_.”

He allowed a few seconds to pass for his words to sink in.

“She gave away pieces of her, to keep Loki out of harm’s way, for as long as she could.”

“The Vow for Two Worlds…the strongest magic of love there is. Stays with you even after you’re dead.”

Rinpoche began to make his way to the staircase.

Stephen’s hand shot out to touch the Rinpoche’s elbow, in the crook of which the tureen was protectively nestled. “What do you mean?”

“She is still around, isn’t she?” Rinpoche gazed at him out of the corner of one eye. “She brought you here.”

Stephen’s throat went dry. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Come now, Master Strange.” The Lama’s smile was gentle. “I am a Yangsi. I retain the memories of my past life.”

They climbed the stairs together and entered the small chamber they originally came from once more. Rinpoche took his place at the low altar, and Stephen by his husband’s side.

Rinpoche’s rosary began clicking in one hand, the other he clapped on Loki’s forehead as he muttered healing prayers under his breath. The tureen of spring water sat next to his knee, and every so often, he would scoop some of the water into his hand and drizzle a few drops onto Loki’s face.

In his stupor, Loki did not flinch, and the terror in the pit of Stephen’s gut reared its monstrous head again. “What is happening to him, Rinpoche?”

For every year she lived, Loki would live it too, the Lama’s words rang in his ears.

_What does that mean, now that Loki has vowed the same to him?_

“He bargained the rest of his years for me, didn’t he?” The tears were coming now, fast and hot. “The stupid idiot wanted to keep me around, wanted me to live just as long as him so he’s gone and done gave his life away.”

The devastation ate away at him, ravenous and rampant.

“It’s me. I am killing him.”

Rinpoche halted in his chanting, his rosary gone still in his hand. “No. The Vow is a beautiful thing. This was not supposed to happen.”

“The years bequeathed to you are a gift, for both you and him. You were supposed to live out the rest of your lives together, Stephen. Age together. Die together.”

“Not one before the other.” A few droplets of spring water dropped onto Loki’s mouth, seeping into his slightly ajar lips.

Stephen shivered. “But The Ancient One’s passed…how is Loki still alive?”

“Because she surrendered him. To you.”

Stephen shook his head, uncomprehending, his eyes glistening with tears.

“The last time you came…two years ago. You did not claim it?”

“Claim what?”

“She did not tell you.” Stephen shook his head again, aghast.

“Has she not spoken to you?” The Lama watched Stephen’s eyes refocus upon successful recollection, and he pressed further, “What did she say?”

“Things she had said to me before. Words of wisdom, random lessons –”

“Oh, she may be many things, Master Strange. Random was not one of them.”

“That khata. She gave it to you, did she not?” Stephen’s eyes dropped to the white silk scarf draped around his neck, a token from The Ancient One, given to him when she urged him to seek the Lama all those years ago.

“It was given to her by His Holiness The Dalai Lama himself. One does not simply relinquish such a priceless holy object.”

 _“Surrender,”_ she had said. Over and over.

Stephen closed his eyes and tried to sort his jumbled thoughts out. He furiously rubbed the pads of his thumbs together. “This something you mentioned. Something I should have claimed.”

He opened his eyes. “Where is it?”

“I do not know.” Rinpoche shook his head. “If she had not told you before…maybe she was waiting for the right time.”

_Where is it?_

_Oh, Ancient One. What are you trying to tell me?_

_“It’s not about you.”_

Stephen stared at Loki’s still face. If not for the shallow breaths wading laboriously through the shrouds of cloth wrapping his body, one would not be mistaken in thinking he was already dead.  

 _“Surrender, Stephen.”_ Her voice resounded in his mind, almost drowned out by the chanting of healing mantras all around him, but now he was hearing it again, as clear as the day she left him stranded on –

_The Everest._

Oh. _Oh_.

On its own volition, a hand reached up for the khata around his neck. His heart began to pound madly in his chest.

“Rinpoche, I need to go.”

“Have you found what you came here for?” The same question Rinpoche had asked at the very end of his first pilgrimage, the one Stephen thought he had answered, but in actual fact answered not a single damn thing.

Stephen only acknowledged the question with a nod. Until he had it in his hand, he would not speak, for the power of words went beyond a simple ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’

He threw one last look at Loki’s pale, pale face.

Yeah. It went beyond a simple ‘I love you.’

“Release your fear, Stephen.” Rinpoche placed a palm on Loki’s forehead. There was still time, but not for much longer. Stephen needed to hurry. “And you will find it.”

_____________________________________________

_The Everest_

 

Stephen took the first step onto the barely visible landing into the biting cold, and all breath left him in a loud _“Gah!”_ but the gale carried the sound of his voice away. In the pitch darkness of the night, the only thing lighting his way was the moon.

How ironic that the most important test of his life would take him back to where she had given him his very first one.

“You were never one for spelling it out, were you?” Stephen murmured through chattering teeth and frozen lips.

“You were never going to simply surrender Loki to me.” Stephen’s breathy rants accompanied his step after precarious step. “You had to make sure I was _worthy_.”

“Well, here I AM!” He yelled into the vast open air. Or at least, he thought he did. His ears were numb from the cold too, frosted to the point where he could barely hear his own voice.

“I release it.” His breath came in short, shallow gasps.

The ice-cold air burned in his chest. “I release my fear, of losing everything and everyone I love.”

“I release my fear of losing.” _Loki_.

Perhaps now Stephen could only begin to hope…to love Loki freely without hesitation. To be with Loki without fearing the worst. To protect him to the best of his abilities - Stephen looked up to the heavens - for just like the stars above, their destinies had never been clearer.

Stephen had always wondered why he could never read his own palm. His life line was always changing…in length, in shape, in clarity…on some days he could barely see it at all. And now he knew why.

But he cared not for how it looked, not when he knew it was going to look just the same as Loki’s.

“Ancient One. Hear my offering –” Stephen brought the scarf to his lips and breathed his magic into it; he was no longer feeling the cold, only the sheer magic in the air.

It was _near_. He could feel it. He whispered, “Hear my claim.”

And released it into the air.

He watched it fly through the air at the speed of sound, slithering amid boulders and snow-covered peaks and throughs of the sacred mountain and disappear behind a spire of ice. A golden glow began to emanate from somewhere beyond it.

It had found its mark.

Stephen clasped his palms together. He closed his eyes. His ring began to warm in response to his plea.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing on a clearing, a space the size of an average American house patio. As innocent as it looked, one wrong step would send one plummeting down the edge into a deep, bottomless ravine.

And in the middle of the clearing was a tree.

The sceptic in Stephen was screaming for a scientific explanation, for how could a tree grow _here_ , on the highest peak of the Everest, where no vegetations could hope to grow –

It was small, barely taller than himself at a height of seven feet at most, and the scarf was wound around one of its branches, its ends wrapped around something, shrouding an object, round, soft, _very_ soft as it gave under the slight pressure of his fingers –

It was a peach.

A perfect, round, unearthly fragrant peach.

This is no ordinary peach, he thought wildly.

It was not the Fan of Zhongli Quan that he had found.

He had found the Eternal Peach of Zhongli Quan instead.

This is insane, he thought dimly as he plucked it from the branch as easily as plucking a stray leaf off the still surface of a pond. Absolutely, mind-blowingly insa-

He could not finish his train of thought, for he immediately found himself transported back to the cave monastery where Loki’s body was laid out.

“Rinpoche,” he gasped, handing the precious fruit still wrapped in its pristine white shroud.

“So it accepted your surrender,” The Lama murmured, in delight or relief Stephen could not tell, but the Lama’s eyes instantly brightened at the sight of his offering. “Time is of the essence. Quickly now –”

He signalled for his disciples to help, and a few red-robed ordained monks walked their knees forward across the floor. Slowly they raised Loki’s upper body off the ground, one supporting the back of his head, another one the girdle of his shoulders.

“Loki. Loki, my child.” Rinpoche cupped the highest peak of Loki’s forehead. “Loki, wake up.”

Opening his eyes was a struggle, but speaking was impossible. Loki’s lips worked to form words but all that came were short bursts of breath after breath – Rinpoche held a slice of the fruit to the bloodless lips. “Eat this. Now.”

“You too, Stephen. You too must partake.” Rinpoche looked pointedly at the miracle fruit, its flesh a glistening yellow against the scarlet red of its pit.

The Ancient One’s magic was coming to an end, and he, The Sorcerer Supreme must now seize the rein and renew the contract.

“Loki!” Rinpoche’s voice had risen, a few decibels above the thrumming of the chants. Loki’s eyes flew open. _“Eat.”_

Stephen’s hand found Loki’s hand; his circulation had become so sluggish from the weakening of his heart, his nails had gone blue.

“Loki, it’s okay. Just take a bite.” He squeezed Loki’s cold, cold fingers. “For me.”

Stephen made a show of it, “Look, I’m eating it too. “

_“For you.”_

The Peach of Zhongli Quan tasted like nothing he had ever tasted before, its saccharine sweetness melting on his tongue like spun sugar floss.

_“For us.”_

With renewed strength, Loki parted his lips and the Rinpoche all but pushed the small piece of fruit in. “That’s it, my child.”

The first miniscule bite went down with difficulty, his throat bobbing as Loki swallowed without chewing. But each following attempt became easier, and he soon finished the first slice. Rinpoche clawed the air with his fingers. “The rest, Stephen.”

Stephen quickly handed him another slice. And another. Then another.

Until finally, the peach was gone.

Visibly stronger now, Loki could hold his head up, and he drank from a cup the spring water Rinpoche had collected thirstily. “Slowly.”

He held out the silver cup with trembling hands. “Another. Please,” he gasped.

Rinpoche ladled more water into the cup, filling it almost to the brim. He cautioned, “Slowly, easy does it.”

Loki drained the cup with the kind of thirst only one stranded in the most water-scant desert could understand, some of the spring water seeping from the corner of his mouth and trickling down the curve of his throat.

Stephen could not help but stare at the many, many scars that marred the translucent whiteness of his neck, some he had never seen before – which should be impossible given the number of times Stephen had buried his face in that neck. “Loki…”

“Stephen?” As though only seeing him for the first time, the cup fell away from his hand, and Loki reached out for him –

And Stephen caught his trembling arms, and engulfed him in an embrace.

_“I’m sorry. I'm sorry.”_

Tears filled Stephen’s eyes once more and threatened to spill – _“For what?”_

_“For being a stupid idiot.”_

Stephen barked a laughter. He held Loki tighter. If only there were not so many eyes watching, and if they were not in such a holy place, he would kiss Loki, and take him right then and there. “You’re _my_ stupid idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki took the Vow upon himself with the intention of sharing his long life with Stephen, the greatest Sorcerer Supreme of them all, and he wanted to spare Stephen from having to go down the dark path, stealing the power from Dormammu/Dark Dimension just to stay alive, as TAO did. 
> 
> The Peach is symbolic of TAO's lost relic's power of resurrection. Stephen was supposed to claim it the last time he passed through Tibet but he didn't get the memo. So he came back to Asgard, all recharged and renewed and spiritually-centred and broke through Loki's (who has begun deteriorating after TAO's death and the many, many hits he took) contraceptive spell and got him pregnant with Aife. 
> 
> Hit me up if there's any confusion y'all...but in the end, I'm just a sucker for happy endings and really, Stephen checking out in forty? fifty? years...leaving Loki all alone? With five kids? Not happy. Nuh-uh.
> 
>  
> 
> Having trouble picturing TAO and Loki together? I recommend watching Only Lovers Left Alive. Beautiful.


	19. Chapter 19

With the return of full awareness came the realisation that they were not alone, and Loki reluctantly pulled away from Stephen’s embrace. His head felt much clearer and his body, though still very weary, felt undoubtedly invigorated.

He looked around to see the monks had all gathered around him, their eyes closed and palms clasped together in what seemed to be a communal prayer –

“Saurav?” he murmured, unconsciously pulling the swaths of white cloth around himself.

“Fear not, Loki. It is only Tonglen. They are breathing in your pain, and sending out relief to you,” Rinpoche explained patiently. “They are imagining taking away your suffering and giving you happiness.”

“I do not know if I’m comfortable with that.” Loki desperately looked to Stephen, but his husband too was already deep in Tonglen, head bowed in meditation. Loki shook his head. “What I have had to go through…I would not wish it on anyone.”

“You have given and given, Loki. These acts of altruism you have tried to disguise as acts of selfishness must simply be countered, lest they eat you up inside, as they nearly did.”

“Altruism?” If he had not been so astonished, he would have laughed.

“It is a different world you are living now. A world that works on cause and effect.”

“Then there is no hope for me then, Saurav. I have lived too long. It is impossible to recall all the wrongs I have done,” Loki said quietly. “Nor is it possible for me to collect enough merit in this lifetime to deserve anything but suffering and sorrow.”

Rinpoche’s smile was gentle, as gentle as the hand he touched to the top of Loki’s head. “No one is undeserving of happiness, Loki.” He rapidly read a healing mantra under his breath, and blew into Loki’s eyes.

“You deserve it most of all.”

___________________________________________

A late supper was laid out in the communal kitchen, and Stephen had never seen a fare more appetising; simple though it may be with boiled rice, stewed eggplants, fried potato slivers, and sautéed wood-ear mushrooms on offer, it was the best meal he had had in years.

Loki watched with a wistful smile as his husband ate with an appetite Loki thought he would never see again. He took another sip of his tsampa, a watery porridge made of roasted barley and salty Tibetan butter tea. Loki had been wary at first, but Rinpoche assured him that it was gentle enough for him, and he had to admit, the unusual meal was going down rather easily.

“You will stay here for the night, yes?” Rinpoche asked.

Stephen and Loki exchanged glances. Before any of them could protest,

“You will stay here for the night,” Rinpoche declared. “I cannot have you sleeping in a tent out in the cold, not in your condition.”

“But I feel fine –” Loki protested.

“Loki, please. You have not come to visit me in almost two hundred years. Surely you will do me the honour of sheltering you for just one night?”

An awkward silence ensured.

“He’s got you there,” Stephen mumbled, before shovelling another chopstick-ful of rice into his mouth. “At least it won’t be oatmeal again for breakfast.”

Rinpoche only laughed.

Later that evening, a disciple showed them to a room on the very top floor of the monastery. It was sparsely furnished with four single cots facing a row of windows that opened to a breath-taking view of the Himalayas.

Stephen felt sticky from all the trekking they had done, not to mention the unbearable urge to bombard his husband with a million questions, that he simply had to distract himself by doing something mundane and utterly crazy at the same time.

“I’m hitting the showers.”

Loki only nodded from where he was standing at the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

As Stephen walked back into the room minutes later with wet hair so cold it had icicles in it, he stopped short at the sight of his husband, still standing by the window and looking mighty pale and sweating lightly despite the cold mountain air blowing in.

“Loki? You alright?” Stephen asked.

Loki did not answer. He studiously avoided Stephen’s eyes and made his way to the cot farthest from the door, before gingerly lowering himself onto the thinly-padded mattress.

“Loki, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Towelling his hair dry and shivering slightly, Stephen could not help but glare at the silent figure on the bed.

“You hate it when I keep things from you. What makes you think I like it when you do it to me?” Stephen berated irritably.

Loki remained silent and turned from lying on his side to lying face-down on the thin mattress, his bare feet sticking out over the end of the bed.

“Well what is it? Mountain spirits? Hungry ghosts?” He sat down on the adjacent cot. “Loki?”

“Just a slight pain in my stomach,” Loki finally mumbled into his flimsy excuse of a pillow.

Just and slight equalled ‘a whole lot’ and ‘excruciating’ respectively in the Loki thesaurus. 

“How many times – ” Stephen ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Was the tsampa not as gentle as Rinpoche claimed it was after all? “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s nothing, Stephen,” Loki growled and buried his face back into his little pillow. “It’s not that bad.”

“Right. If not that bad has you looking like a dog run over, care to show what real bad looks like? So I can catalogue it in my head for future reference?”

Still lying prone, Loki simply covered his ears with his hands.

Stephen sighed. “Like that, huh?”

He swatted his towel over the cot railing and crossed over to sit on Loki’s bed. Placing a hand on Loki’s back, he became alarmed at how soaked it was, as though Loki was sweating out a fever. “Turn over. Let me have a look.”

“No.”

“Loki.”

“ _No,_ Stephen. This needs to happen. I have to let it.”

“What the _hell_ does that mean?”

“This is no ordinary pain.”

“How is that supposed to be reassuring in any way? That’s all the more reason why I need to take a look!”

“You’re not listening to me, Strange,” Loki admonished gently. “Everything is…rearranging itself. I can feel it.”

A shaky chuckle. “It’s the magic of this place. It’s trying to put me back together.”

“Yeah…you call it magic. I call it intestinal obstruction,” Stephen deadpanned.

Another mirthless chuckle. “No pain no gain, Doctor.”

But Loki’s intermittent sharp intakes of breath were rubbing Stephen all the wrong ways. “Can I at least see if I can make the pain go away?”

“No. I can’t have you…interfere.”

“Well what am I supposed to do then?”

“Watch? Sleep? Climb a tree? I don’t care.”

“Can I at least hold your hand?” Stephen asked quietly, at long last.

“Can’t promise I won’t break it.”

Stephen shrugged. “Nothing I can’t fix.”

As long minutes passed in silence and Stephen sat with Loki through the pain, he began to think that perhaps Loki had not been kidding. On more than a few occasions Stephen had had to stifle his own cry of pain; he would be surprised if Loki did manage to not break his hand, having had to grip it so tightly to ride out the throes of pain.

Stephen was starting to become really worried now, not for the sake of his fragile human bones, but for Loki, whose pain seemed to be increasing by the minute, judging by the soft moans escaping now and then from the measly pillow he still had his face buried in.

A soft knock on the door. “Master Strange?”

“Rinpoche.” Relief warred with apprehension at the sight of the Lama so late into the evening.

“Has it begun?” Rinpoche gave him a knowing look, rosary clicking away briskly in one hand.

Stephen stared at him, before a sharp cry from behind him jolted him out of it. Wordlessly, Stephen nodded, and stepped aside.

“If you could allow us a moment, Master Strange?”

Stephen hesitated, before finally giving in. He would not be of much help anyway, with his hovering. “Of course, Rinpoche.”

Stephen closed the door behind him. The whispered pectoriloquy of the Lama’s healing mantras, inhumanly rapid and sibilant, seemed to follow him as he made his way slowly down the stairs, and out onto the main monastery courtyard.

He sat on a stone bench and waited.

He looked up at the looming pagoda roof, golden and resplendent against the bright, moonlit night. For some reason he was not feeling the cold, despite only being in his sleeping clothes. 

Here they were, thousands of miles away from home, on a sacred journey in search of both spiritual and physical healing, and he had no idea if they were any closer now than before they came, to either.

 _Maybe there is no fixing me_ , Loki had said.

And didn’t Loki always know better?

Stephen closed his eyes and leaned his head backward.

“Master Strange?”

His eyes flew open, and he nearly jumped out of his skin upon sensing a sudden presence sitting next to him. “Rinpoche,” he gasped.

“He’s asleep now,” Rinpoche said calmly. “He should be feeling better come morning.”

Stephen’s stomach flipped lazily. He braved himself to utter the one thought that had been bothering him. “We have not truly healed him.”

To his utter dismay, Rinpoche nodded in reluctant agreement. “We have only healed his physical body. For now.”

“The miracles of Zhongli Quan lie in their resurrective properties…to heal broken bodies and cure chosen ones of illnesses and disease.” Rinpoche inhaled deeply. “Something is devouring his soul, and with it, in time, the body will fail again.”

“It is the Vow he took,” Stephen said, his voice hollow.

“No, Master Strange. The Vow is not a cruel thing. For all her longevity, The Ancient One was only human after all and had no years to give, only her magic.” Rinpoche shook his head. “Her death did not herald Loki’s demise. He would have lived out the rest of his potential life, but only without the protection conferred by the essence of her magic.”

Rinpoche glanced at him. “Nor does his eternal promise to you mean a premature death for him. His time has not yet come.”

“We don’t get to choose our time,” Stephen said quietly, remembering some of the very last words The Ancient One said to him before she died.

“No, we do not,” Rinpoche agreed. “But there is…an external factor at play here. And it has everything to do with the deterioration in Loki’s spiritual wellbeing.”

“What do you mean?” Stephen’s heart began to race.

“The spirit and the body are interdependent, Master Strange. And I am sensing a great imbalance in Loki that I fear will manifest itself again.”

Stephen closed his eyes against the loop of nightmare he could not seem to break.

“His soul is old, Stephen. One that would have seen itself incarnated ten times over, had he been of our world.” Rinpoche raised his head to look at the sky. “Now imagine a star. It may shine for millions of years, but in the end, it will die out.”

Perhaps if Stephen closed them tight enough, this nightmare could finally end. “A leak.”

He opened them again but his gaze was empty as it stared at nothing in particular. “Loki described it as a leak he couldn’t seem to seal.”

Rinpoche wrapped his red robes tighter around himself. “I have done all I can. It is sealed for now…albeit temporarily.”

“How long?” Stephen asked, a tad more tightly than he intended.

How long would it last before Loki deteriorated again? Would Stephen still be around when it happened?

“This century? The next? It is anyone’s guess, Master Strange.”

“Will undoing the Vow make him better?” A strange, almost physical pain accompanied the forbidden question, his voice a cracked, broken whisper.

Rinpoche’s voice, in contrast, was stern. “On the contrary. You may have been the only thing that had kept death and destruction at bay all these years, and you will certainly be the one thing that stands between them in the years to come.”

“Do you know what it is, Rinpoche? Or how long it’s been going on?”

The Lama shook his head. “The knowledge is beyond my reach. All I can tell you is that whatever that happened to him that caused this, it did not happen recently.”

Stian and Aífe’s faces flashed through Stephen’s mind, and with it, the memories of all the hardship Loki had had to go through just to bring their children into the world.

Perhaps Loki had been ill long before they met, and neither of them knew it.

His heart plummeted further. “What do I do, Rinpoche?”

“Take him through the rest of the journey, Stephen. And never lose faith.”

A blessed hand pressed upon the top of his head but Stephen hardly felt it. “It is what gives life meaning.”

“Thank you, Rinpoche.”

______________________________________

When Loki stirred the next morning, Stephen’s visage was the first thing his gaze landed on.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Loki murmured.

Lying on his side precariously on the edge of Loki’s tiny bed, Stephen propped his head on an elbow and gazed down at him. “You’re a sight for sore everything.”

Loki had to laugh. “Your lines are cheesier than ever, Doctor.”

Stephen gave him a lop-sided grin. It did not linger long. “How do you feel?”

Gone were the gnawing pains in his stomach, the perpetual aching in his limbs, the heaviness in his head. For the first time in what felt like years, Loki felt… _normal_.

“I feel fantastic.” Loki sounded almost surprised. “Amazing, actually.”

Stephen’s face brightened. “This might actually be the first time that I believe you.”

_“Hey.”_

“Don’t you ‘Hey’ _me_ , Odinson.” Stephen did not have the heart to sound angry anymore. “What ever happened to Section (6) of Article (4) in our relationship agreement? That one should not wear a glamour when in the presence of the other?”

“I refer you to the Clause under the same section, husband, that in dire times when one (and/or both) is in mortal danger wherein the wearing of a glamour is of critical value, then wear it you shall,” Loki said simply. He had been the one to draft it after all.

Stephen sighed. “You’re incorrigible, Loki.”

Loki was quiet for a while. “But you still love me, yes?”

Stephen’s answer came in the form of a deep, lingering kiss.

“You’re not…angry with me?” Loki cupped the sides of his face.

Stephen’s answer came in the form of a second kiss, deeper and harder, leaving them both breathless when they finally broke apart.

“Let’s get out of here, Stephen.”

“Why?” Stephen asked teasingly.

“This place is too holy to even _think_ of the things I want to do to you.”

Stephen stared at his husband. At the sight of the spark of mischief lighting up the green of his eyes, so familiar yet so long gone, Stephen’s throat dried up suddenly. “Hold that thought Odinson.”

“Yeah? For how long?” Loki asked seductively.

Stephen’s stomach let out a low, mournful groan. “Just until I’ve had some breakfast,” he said sheepishly.

Loki laughed again before wrapping his arms around Stephen’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. “I’ll take one for the journey.”

__________________________________________

_Dingri. 13,900 feet above sea level._

 

Standing at the flank of Mount Gongbori, Loki looked up into the distance at the ancient remains of a monastery, its crumbling ruins a sprawling, inaccessible complex high up in the mountains.

“Shall we?”

“You and your ruins.”

“Oh I don’t see ruins, Stephen. I never do.” Loki’s eyes roamed the foothills, at the Everest in the far distance, at the teracotta roofs of the ancient town just beyond the horizon. “I see them for what they used to be. Grand and beautiful, untouched and pristine. At the height of its heyday, this whole city was a treasure trove, the cradle of civilisation.” His face fell slightly. “Now?”

The sense of loss could be felt permeating the atmosphere, like the jamais vu of seeing a completely brand new city when one knew an old one had sat once before in its place.

“Why did you come here the last time anyway?” Loki asked with mild curiosity.

“I was trying to get to the foot of the Everest…the Rongbuk Monastery to be specific. Had to stop halfway.”

At Loki’s questioning gaze, Stephen sheepishly added. “Altitude sickness.”

Loki tsk-tsked. But he came nearer, and nakedly searched his husband’s face for any sign of illness.

“I’m okay, Loki,” Stephen said gently. “But it’s nice having you worry about me for a change.”

“I always worry about you,” Loki said softly. “That has never changed.”

Stephen gazed at Loki sharply. As if he could sense it, Loki looked away and immediately changed the subject. “There is hardly anything to see now at Rongbuk. Not since the fire that destroyed its vast collection of priceless books and relics back in the 1800s.”

“I tried to save it, but –” At Stephen’s aghast expression, Loki sighed deeply. “Well you know me. I try to stay away from fires really. The last time I was in one, it was one of my doing, and had you and Thor not come back for me, I would have perished.”

The destructive fire released by Loki’s deadly blood magic had yet to return the piece of scorched land back to life; it remained a blackened, infertile grass land in the heart of New Asgard.

Stephen squeezed his hand. “I will always come back for you.”

Loki smiled brightly. “I know that now.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. This was a place under heavy surveillance; it would not do to call the attention of the ever-roaming eyes of the Chinese authorities onto them. He could easily get out of trouble, but Stephen was still adamant about not using magic so he was trying to behave himself, but it was _hard_.

“Come on, husband. We haven’t got all day.”

“Where are you going? The Yarlung Tsangpo river is that way.”

“There’s a nice restaurant downtown and it’s got this nice dish I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Any nice restaurant you’ve tried the last time you came is probably lost to the times and human history, Loki.”

Loki snorted derisively. “Can’t be. Tripadvisor 2019 says it’s a must-try.”

Stephen could not help but laugh.

As they walked side by side through the crumbling roads of the ancient town in what was turning out to be strangest second honeymoon ever, Stephen realised life with Loki would never not be an adventure. Case in point?

“What’s a yak jam anyway?”

“It’s raw yak meat in a potent concoction of garlic, onion and chillies. Lots and lots of chillies.”

“Loki. There’s no way in _Hell_ am I ever going to let you eat that.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it.” The nearest modern hospital was probably in Lhasa and any traditional Tibetan hospital around here, he was pretty sure he could not speak the language, “Hell no.”

“Hel, yes.”

____________________________________________

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you do it?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Strange.” Loki’s fingers curled around the grey hair at his temple as they resumed the soothing head massage.

Stephen looked up from where he was lying in Loki’s lap. From this angle, what little he could see of Loki’s eyes was enough to tell him that Loki knew just exactly what he was asking.

He turned his head once more to look upon the blanket of stars twinkling high above them as if to follow the line of Loki’s thousand-mile gaze.

“Do you know how Aífe came to draw power from the Dark Dimension, Stephen?”

“The forbidden spell in the Book of Cagliostro.” Kaecilius never returned the stolen pages. If there was one thing Stephen hated, it was people ripping pages out of books.

Loki’s hand stilled. “Do you truly believe that?”

Stephen reached for the hand still clasped to his temple. “You are not responsible for her choices. Knowing her, we both know she knew what she was getting herself into.”

“Oh I know she did.” Loki’s voice was but a whisper, stricken and grieved. “And after what happened to her, I knew I could not let the same thing happen to you. Not again.”

“I was never going to go down the dark path, Loki.”

Something wet dropped onto Stephen’s face. He looked up in alarm. “Loki.”

“She said the exact same thing to me.” Before Stephen knew it, Loki’s head was bent so low their foreheads were almost touching, his long arms curled possessively around Stephen’s neck, his unruly hair tickling Stephen’s face all over – but Stephen knew better; Loki was only hiding his tears, it was evident in the way his voice broke. “On a night just like this.”

“Please don’t ask me of it anymore, Stephen.”

“Shh, Loki.” Stephen pushed himself off the ground and twisted at his waist. He gripped the sides of Loki’s face and to his horror, the tears were cascading in a freefall and all burning questions died at the sight of them and he desperately thumbed them away. “Hey, hey. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Stephen.”

“Sneaky bastards, both of us. We’re perfect for each other.” Stephen gave him a quick peck on the lips, wet and salty. “But of course you just have to go to extremes, like you always do.”

“I’ll try to do things in half-measures from now on,” Loki sniffed mournfully.

“No.” Stephen shook his head, adamant. “Don’t you ever change. I don’t think I can stand the ordinary.”

That brought a teary laughter from his Prince at last. “I’ll remind you of that the next time you chew my head out for doing something incredibly extraordinary.”

A mischievous glint chased away the last traces of sadness, and Stephen could almost taste the change of mood in the atmosphere.

“Will you make love to me, Stephen?”

“Loki…” Stephen’s grip around his shoulders tightened. The last time they had been together, they had been in astral form, and it created their most painful memory to date.

“I think I can leave them behind me now. The painful memories, the negativities, the holes…they’re all gone now.” Loki rose into a kneeling posture and cupped the back of Stephen’s head. “I am ready, husband.”

A coaxing kiss on the lips, sweet, and salty no more. “I would not ask it of you otherwise.”

“Here?” Stephen asked breathlessly as they broke apart for air.

“Why not? The only thing around here are mountain goats. I’m sure they won’t tell on us.” Loki’s eyes bored deep into his soul. “Love me freely, Stephen. Fearlessly. Like you promised.”

“Loki.”

Loki flicked his wrist, and Stephen saw the rainbow-tinged crystalline silhouettes of the Mirror Dimension surround them in a lightshow of brilliant lights, before shimmering out of sight.

“Care to join me, Doctor?”

When Stephen looked at his husband again, his mouth fell.

A completely naked Loki was lying on his back on the grass, gazing at the stream of stars above his head. “The stars are beautiful tonight, Stephen.”

Before he knew it, Stephen was lying on top of him, their long legs entwined around each other, locked hands digging deep into the grass underneath them for purchase.

Loki had never looked more beautiful. “So are you,” he whispered huskily.

And they made love under the stars with nothing surrounding them for as far as the eye could see, but moonlit plains of fertile grasslands, and the majestic Everest gazing upon them from the heavens.

__________________________________________________

The next morning, Loki woke up to the delicious smell of coffee. He wrapped his sleeping bag around himself and hopped out of the tent, all cocooned and pleasantly warm.

“Morning,” he murmured.

Stephen was stirring something very enthusiastically over the gas cooker. “Morning, darling. Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.” Loki yawned delicately. “What’s for breakfast? I’m so hungry I could eat a yak.”

Stephen’s eyes brightened. “I do hope that’s a metaphor, but even if it isn’t, I don’t really care. So you are feeling alright?”

Loki brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes. “Yeah. I feel a hundred percent. Can’t you tell?”

“After last night?” Stephen chuckled. “I’ve never felt so worn out and rested at the same time.”

After much complaining and cajoling, Loki finally gave in and picked up his spoon in resignation. “I think this thing is starting to grow on me.”

“Good.” Stephen could listen to Loki complain about oatmeal all day long but he hummed happily as he scooped another helping into Loki’s bowl. All that mattered was that Loki was eating again. “When we get back to Asgard, I’ll make you anything you want.”

Loki’s eyes softened. “I can’t wait to see our children again.”

Stephen said softly, “Me too.”

If Stian and Aífe were all they were going to have in this lifetime, then so be it.

Loki inhaled deeply. The air smelled wonderful here. It was clean and fresh, like Asgard, but different somehow…its scent of Oriental magic uniquely distinctive, ancient and timeless. “We should go somewhere. Just the four of us.”

Stephen’s fingers grazed the outside of his arm lightly. He kissed Loki on the temple. “Just the four of us.”

“Anything else you’d like to do before we head back? Anything you want to see?” If he could gander a guess, “Another ruin?”

Loki looked out across the calm, rolling waters of the peaceful river. He felt like a swim. “Race you to the other side?”

Stephen could only stare, the oatmeal sitting like a brick in his stomach. And his crazy husband wanted to challenge him in a swimming contest. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that.”

Loki was already in the water. “At least it won’t be a boring one!”

__________________________________________________

The portal opened into their living room. While it was already near midnight in Tibet, it was barely sundown in New Asgard, and the light of the dusk streamed through the French windows, golden and warm. As golden as the figure sitting on their couch.

“Brother!” A loud, gratingly familiar voice bellowed.

Loki groaned loudly. “Thor.”

“I have been waiting for you for hours!” Loki needed to figure out a manoeuvre to accept Thor’s hugs in the least painful way possible.

“You look well.” Thor’s grip around his arms was exquisitely painful. “You even _feel_ well.”

“Yes, yes, please do refrain from squeezing me like a piece of fruit, Thor.”

“I trust the trip was a success?” Thor shook Stephen’s hand, clapping his brother-in-law on the back warmly.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” Stephen said breezily.

“What news from Vanaheim, Thor?” The faster they could get rid of his brother, the sooner Loki could get to his children, and some real food.

“Oh Brother, you really outdid yourself this time.”

“What did I do?”

“What didn’t you do?” Thor snorted. “You stole Freyja’s grimoire of forbidden spells from her library. You invoked the darkest of fire magic from the bowels of Muspelheim itself and near razed New Asgard to the ground.”

“And I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Loki said flatly. He sank onto the couch and elevated his legs onto the Ottoman. “That’s old news, Thor. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You didn’t steal the second grimoire.”

Loki turned his head around very slowly.

“You have been bleeding your life force for the past five years, and you were none the wiser.”

“A second grimoire?” Stephen’s heart began to pound. “What’s in it? What did he miss?”

What was Loki supposed to have done after he sacrificed almost his entire circulatory system out to defeat Orri and his dark sorcery?

“The second part to the spell.” Thor looked at him sharply. “Freyja was so angered by your breaking and entering she did not even bother to tell you of the ultimate price to the spell you cast.”

Loki gaped. “But I’m not…leaking anymore. Surely it has run its course?”

He looked to Stephen frantically, but his desperation turned sour at the haunted look in Stephen’s eyes.

“Stephen…” he said warningly. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Stephen rubbed a hand tiredly across his eyes. There was no hiding it any longer.

“Rinpoche sealed the fenestrations in the very core of your soul, Loki. But only temporarily.”

Stephen planted himself heavily onto the bar stool at the kitchen island. “With time, they will give way, and you will deteriorate again.”

“You knew.” Loki’s face was ashen. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“We just had a win, Loki. Could you not _not_ begrudge me one night, just one night that I could pretend everything was alright?” Stephen said imploringly. “That you were alright?”

Loki turned his furious look to his Brother. “Well? What is the ultimate price that I have yet to pay then? Did Freyja deign to tell you? What did you have to give up for that vital piece of information, Thor?”

“I did not need to. Mother and Father did,” Thor said quietly.

_“What?”_

“They came to Freyja in a dream. Told her you were in trouble. In fact, she was expecting me, and nearly bit my head off for not coming sooner.”

Loki raised a visibly trembling hand to his mouth. “Let us hear it, Thor.”

Thor studied his brother carefully.

“For every year you live, one of your loved ones is to give up one of theirs…and the next and so forth. Until Hela claims one or both of you into her dark bosom, and even darker Halls.”

Loki began to laugh.

Stephen exchanged looks of chagrin with Thor –

It started off slow, a mirthless chuckle that soon escalated into a crazed, maniacal laughter that soon had tears running down his face.

“There’s a reason why it is forbidden, Loki.”

“My days have always been numbered, Thor. At the end of the day, it is not telling me something I don’t already know.”

“I wanted to give her my remaining years –”

“Thor, don’t you dare.” All tears dried instantly. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Thor shook his head, every bit as furiously. “But I couldn’t. It had to be someone you both agreed on.”

“I’ll do it.” Stephen stood up.

“No.” The grief tore from Loki’s throat in a raw cry of agony. “No, Stephen.”

“I am only giving up the years you gave me, Loki. They were never mine to begin with.”

Loki’s head reared as if slapped, but Stephen’s words could not be gentler.

“What use do I have of them in a world without you?”

“How can you ask that?” Loki cupped his face, the line of his shoulders slumped in utter defeat. He suddenly felt so, so tired. When he spoke again, his whisper was barely audible. “You are the Sorcerer Supreme.”

“And there will be another one after me. And another one after him or her, and so on and so forth, until the world ceases to exist.”

“Our children…”

“Will have both of us for as long they could.” Stephen was adamant, but not unkind. “I’d rather we raise our children together, than go it alone.”

He walked over slowly to where his husband was sitting on the couch and kneeled.

Stephen pried Loki’s hand off the side of his face and replaced it with his own. Loki’s tears felt unusually warm against the skin of his palm.

“Let me save you. Properly this time.”

“Why?” The grief in Loki’s eyes asked the very question Stephen had been asking himself for as long as he could remember.

_Why can't we just be happy?_

But he chose to let Loki think he misunderstood what he was asking.

“I cannot sit around and watch you slowly wither away.” Stephen shook his head slowly. “Not when there is something I can do about it.”

“I’d rather die by a thousand swords than have your death on my conscience, Loki.”

Loki heard the words as clearly as he had the first time all those weeks ago, but their meaning had never been clearer.

Perhaps it would have been better had they never met each other.

_You can’t lose what you never had._

“It’s just your luck, Strange,” he whispered.

“Yes it is.” Stephen’s shaking hand left a scraggly trail of tears across Loki’s cheek as he attempted to wipe them away. “I’m the luckiest man in the multiverse.”

“I married you.”

And Loki could not hold back his sobs any longer.

Stephen fiercely kissed his husband on the forehead for one last time.

“Come on, Thor. Take me to Vanaheim.”

“Ye-ah…” Thor who had been watching silently from the far corner of the living room cleared his throat loudly. “About that.”

“You kiinda don’t have to anymore.” Thor propped his elbows on the kitchen island, eyeing the fruit bowl in front of him as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Thor?” Stephen frowned.

“Oh did I not tell you? Loki’s all healed. Freyja closed the loop.”

“What? When?” Stephen demanded.

“Right before I came back actually. If you had stolen the _third_ grimoire then you would know that another way to plug the leak is to plug them with Freyja’s tears.” Thor tossed something at Stephen who caught it in one hand. “Here.”

A gold pendant in the shape of an exquisite triskelion shone brilliant and glittering in the heart of his palm.

“Freyja cried for me?”

“Of course she did. She _is_ our Aunt, Loki.” Thor nonchalantly popped a slice of orange into his mouth.

“You _tricked_ me?”

“What? Naww..” Thor drawled. He popped the remaining hemisphere of orangey goodness into his mouth, pits and all. “You just never let me finish my story.”

“Your _story?!”_

“Good thing Stephen stepped up to the plate too, it would have been so awkward if he hadn’t –”

_“Loki!”_

A glint of silver, and a giant Mandala shield loomed over Thor –

“Let me at him!” Loki raged. The tips of his daggers sparked as they came into contact with Stephen’s shield.

“Now, now, Brother –”

“Don’t you ‘Now, now’ me!” Gone were the daggers, for now Loki’s hands glowed as they prepared to blast Stephen’s mandala, and hopefully Thor too, into smithereens –

“Loki…it’s bad karma to kill a bringer of good news, even if it’s your Brother,” Stephen tried to reason but his effort was half-hearted at best. He countered Thor’s glare with a cool look of his own. It was not like Thor did very much when Loki drew his daggers on _him_ on the first day they met at The Sanctum all those years ago.

“Yes, Loki, it is, all these negativities can’t be good for you, not in your delicate condition –”

“I don’t have a condition!” Loki was looking about ten seconds away from hollering. “And _delicate_? Really?!”

“Well, Freyja did warn me that you might get a bit over-excited, now that we know for sure that you’re going to be just fine and back to being the little terror that you were,” Thor sighed.

“Also, the Council of the Gods weren’t too keen on all this self-sacrificing behaviour, and they bid you both to stop.”

“You invoked the Council?” Loki lost all control and began the descent into shrieking.

“Of course I did. This is no small matter.” Thor said indignantly.

At Loki’s loud moan, he could not resist slipping it in, “And the collective word is, ‘Do stop with the self-sacrificing behaviour, it is unhealthy and utterly exhibitionistic.”

“Did Bragi say that?” Loki peeked through the crevices of his fingers.

“No, Freyr actually. Bragi could not stop waxing lyrical about you two. The wily Trickster God, and the human Sorcerer who stole his heart.”

“I feel like I’m stuck in a soap opera and I can’t get out,” Stephen mumbled. “No, scratch that. A Spanish telenovela, cos I sure as hell don’t understand a word of it.”

“It means ‘Yes, yes, they get it. You love each other. Do stop trying to die every other day to prove your love to one another.”

“Oh, that’s all _him_.” Stephen forgot all about keeping his shield up and pointed in Loki’s direction. “I’m perfectly fine with just buying him sandwiches and making the kids’ lunches.”

“Yeah. Says the guy who couldn’t wait to haul arse to Vanaheim and sell his soul to Freyja.” 

Try as they might to glare at each other, Stephen and Loki only lasted a few seconds before they threw in the towel and exchanged abashed smiles instead.

Thor’s gaze flicked between his brother and his brother-in-law in glee, loving nothing more than to interrupt their moment – yet for all Thor’s enthusiasm, Stephen and Loki did not seem to be at all listening.

“No one needs to sell anything, but Freyja and Freyr do send their love, and bid you to come visit when you’re stronger. They look forward to seeing you and your children, especially the twins.”

“What?” Loki’s smile froze on his face.

Loki’s sudden change in countenance was lost on Thor, who continued breezily. “At first I wondered if they meant Stian and Aífe, but I suppose they must be talking about your future children.”

Loki’s face drained of all colour. His hand groped the air as he grappled for whatever support available to him, and he found it in the form of a strong arm gripping the bend of his elbow.

Stephen fought to keep his voice level. “Thor. We…lost the twins.”

“That can’t…be.” Thor stared at Stephen in aghast, before frantically looking to Loki, whose knees had gone so weak Stephen hurriedly conjured a chair for him to sit in –

“She shared me her Sight!” Thor took an earth-shattering step forward. “Freyja is never wrong, Loki, you know that!”

“She showed you?” Loki’s voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“Yes!” Thor nodded vehemently. “A girl and a boy, with hair the colour of midwinter’s night, and eyes as green as the sea!” His eyes began to dance with excitement once more, oblivious to the identical, stunned expressions on Stephen and Loki’s faces.

“And I am to convey to you that you have all their Blessings and that there is no need to worry for you are going to sail through the pregnancy this time, and that you will have a safe delivery and that yes, you have their permission to name the little ones after them –”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Thor.” Stephen fought the urge to run his hands through his hair for there were only so many bizarre things he could take in in a day without wanting to tear it out by the root. His head was _spinning_. “You’re going to have to start from the beginning.”

“I am pregnant?” Loki whispered.

“What?!” Stephen demanded. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“But I don’t…feel –” _Like I’m being ripped to pieces_ , Loki wanted to say. A peculiar tingling sensation prickled the base of his spine.

Could it be?

He ran to their bedroom while fumbling with the buttons of his coat –

The bathroom door locked itself behind him.

–  and when that simply took too long, he shed every piece of clothing he was wearing by magic except for his trousers.

He stood half-dressed in front of the full-length mirror.

He could dimly hear someone knocking on the bathroom door. “Loki!!”

Of course, nothing had changed. His body looked the same as it had always been. The hideous scars were still there, although they had lightened in colour, the contractures softer to the touch.

His hand hovered over his belly, afraid to touch, afraid of what he might _see_. 

“Loki, open the door.”

_Stephen._

“Loki, let me in.”

No. He could not do this alone. He could not bear it.

The bathroom door unlocked itself with a soft click.

Their eyes met in the bathroom mirror, the pallor of his husband’s face matching his down to a tee.

“Did you –?” Stephen could not seem to find the right words, “Are you –?”

“I haven’t. I can’t –” Loki balled his fists at his side. “I can’t look.” His pupils nearly swallowed his green irises whole in terror. “Not without you.”

Stephen nodded briskly. In a hushed voice, he wrapped a hand around Loki’s wrist. “Come on. Let’s look together.”

As if in a dream, Loki let himself led out of the bathroom and lowered gently onto the bed.

The cool air blew the day curtains in, as ethereal and as soft as the light of dusk peeking shyly in through the windows that opened onto their balcony. Loki fought down a shiver as the breeze kissed the bare skin of his arms and naked torso.

“Whatever happens…” Loki heard himself say. “I love you.”

Lips seized lips, locking forehead to forehead, chest to chest…and as a surge of magic raised the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck, he frantically kissed Stephen, terrified to let go, terrified not to.

“You ready?” Stephen said breathlessly when they finally broke apart reluctantly. They had put it off long enough.

“Yeah.” Loki licked his lips, savouring the phantom taste of Stephen’s kiss. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Bless the familiar warmth of his husband’s hand as it carefully felt his belly; Loki laced his fingers through Stephen’s, lending him the strength he needed.

Together as one, Stephen and Loki let their magic seep through their fingers.

Loki closed his eyes as the magic searched deep inside him, hoping against hope that Thor was telling him the absolute truth.

Loki felt something drop onto his face, hot and wet. And another.

He opened his eyes.

And the truth was right there, in the welling of Stephen’s glistening eyes.

Loki felt something stir inside him and his heart skipped. Was that –?

He waited, and there it was again. And he instantly burst into tears.

_“Stephen.”_

Stephen nodded. He could not speak.

“We’re pregnant.” Loki could not see his husband’s face clearly through the veil of heavy tears but he could make out the blurry image of Stephen nodding away madly.

“We’re really pregnant.” Somehow saying it out loud, twice, made it all the more surreal, and Loki felt giddy.

_“Oh, Loki.”_

Stephen let out a laugh and suddenly Loki was flying; in his thrill and exuberance and euphoria, The Cloak must have taken it upon itself to join in the celebration, and Loki soon found himself laughing too as they levitated off the bed, twirling in the air as they kissed each other furiously.

“It’s them?” Stephen cupped the sides of Loki’s face. “It’s really them?”

His Mother must have looked after them for him. And Freyr and Freyja were both the God and Goddess of Fertility after all –

Loki nodded, his tears pooling in the web space between Stephen’s thumbs and index fingers. “It’s _them_.”

And his heart soared to heights it had never reached before, and from the way Stephen was kissing him, again and again and again…

The elation was probably mutual.

_“It’s really them.”_

 

THE END (Maybe not?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third time around and still the thrill is the same. Ending it on a happy note, because Stephen and Loki deserve nothing but happiness. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and following the story till the end. ❤


End file.
